


In Our DNA

by AltruisticSkittles



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And some just want to be free, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, In which the boys are all born with a superhuman quality, Lots of platonic/queerplatonic Analogical and Royality, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Deceit/Emile Picani, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Some are "enhanced" and some are just trying to get by, Some are totally content leading a revolution, Superhuman Au, Torture, Triggers include, Unethical Experimentation, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltruisticSkittles/pseuds/AltruisticSkittles
Summary: All people are born different. Some are born with the ability to heal the world. Others are born to bring it to their knees. One thing they share in common is how humanity fears those born different than the majority.But fear not! There is no such thing as humans that can explode buildings with their voice or alter the memories of others. They can't draw pictures of the future or change the way you feel. Those people are only born in fairytales. We, at the Institute of Outstanding Disabilities and Neurological Assessments, strive to better research those fears and eradicate them. We care for you, that's our motto.We hope you remember the only thing you have to fear is fear itself.~The IODNA Head Representative





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so originally this fic was going to be a lot darker than it is, but I've decided to go in a different direction. It's a little more lighthearted, and a lot of chapters are not torture porn any longer. So, I'm sheepishly retracting my earlier warning. I'm sorry to those who were here for that. Now, there may be a chapter or two, but not nearly 15 like I was intending, and I'll definitely put warnings on those for you <3
> 
> That being said, I've wanted to write an AU with superhuman abilities for a long time, but I never really had the plot to go with it. Fear, because I have discovered such a plot, and it's nothing to sneeze at.
> 
> Now, without further ado, please sit back and try to relax as we dive into "In Our DNA"
> 
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: Mentions of an eating disorder, brief mentions of abuse, mentions of forced imprisonment (don't worry about the lack of triggers there's a storm comin)  
> Word Count: 3900

_Subject # 240_  
Defect: Memory manipulation  
Sex: Male  
Age: 15  
Test #: 3,102

_Notes:  
Subject refuses to eat. Conversations suggest the subject is starving himself to escape. After being exposed to Subject #93, Subject has uncovered the horrors of surviving an eating disorder. Subject started eating the next day._

_Test: PASSED_

\--

“Virgil, I don’t understand why there are so many flavors of frozen lactation,” Logan mumbled as they stared up at the sign.

Virgil chuckled and shook his head. “I know it’s a tough decision, but they’re all pretty good. Stay away from the peanut butter ones though.”

“Are they distasteful?” Logan asked.

“No, but,” Virgil paused, “I mean, you can have it, but you’ll have to be careful around me.”

Logan put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “If the consumption of a peanut butter is going to harm you, then I shall refrain from consuming it.”

This time Virgil laughed hard. Logan wondered what they said that was so funny, but Virgil shook his head and refused to answer them.

“Look, how about we both get vanilla. It’s like the base flavor,” Virgil pointed out. Logan watched Virgil play with the squeeze toy in his pocket as he walked up to the counter. He ordered two small cones and paid for their order. After a few minutes, the cashier handed over two cones with two scoops of ice cream on top. Virgil handed one out to Logan.

Logan looked at the ice cream, to Virgil’s eyes, then back at the sugary treat. Their fingers wrapped around the cone’s base. They studied the way Virgil glided his tongue over the ice cream and stared back at their own. Was it not socially acceptable to bite it? Virgil’s eyes flickered to theirs, and he gave a gentle and encouraging smile.

“Hurry before it melts,” Virgil urged.

Logan stuck their tongue out and touched the tip of the ice cream. The chill retracted their tongue. They shuddered. Virgil’s brow rose with both curiosity and amusement, and he watched them stare at the ice cream like it sneezed and offended their ancestors.

“Don’t like it?” Virgil asked.

Logan dared to take another lick. This time, they were bolder and swiped their tongue across the frozen treat. They shivered, but their eyes lit up moments later.

“You good, fam?” Virgil asked through his laughter.

“It’s delectable,” Logan whispered. They licked it again, this time gathering up a rather large amount on their tongue, and held the ice cream in their mouth a little longer than normal. Their eyes widened as the ice turned into cream on their tongue.

“Glad to hear you like it,” Virgil commented and took another lick of his own.

The two walked down the sidewalk of the busy city. Virgil admired the world he used to belong to at a distance. People hurried off to work before they were marked tardy. People kissed their children and hugged their spouse before a long day of loneliness. People talked on their phones to disclose business deals, chatter about the latest gossip, or ask if their family needed anything before they returned home.

In a way, Virgil missed normal, but he’d trade normal any day for the chance to hang out with Logan.

Watching Logan experience life brought a new purpose to Virgil’s dull one. It reminded him of the time he spent teaching his sister how to experience life. He briefly wondered how she was doing and hoped his own family faired out well after his decision. He’d return home one day to check on them, but for right now, his number one priority was keeping Logan safe.

Virgil glanced up at the walls of the city as they strolled through. Business signs flashed and tried to coax people to enter. Several windows had sales tags on them. One, in particular, showcased a poster for the city’s theater, which would be putting on a show of Shakespeare's “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” tomorrow. He hummed. Would Logan like Shakesphere? They seemed to enjoy old novels, so perhaps he could introduce them to theater life next.

“Do you often consume this?” Logan asked and gestured to their ice cream.

“Only on special occasions,” Virgil replied.

“Oh. What are we celebrating?”

Virgil laughed through his nose. “It’s been six months since we escaped.”

Logan’s glasses slid down their nose ever so slightly as their eyebrows rose. They stared down at the ice cream, as if it told them the news, and hummed. “Has it really been that long?”

“Hard to believe, yeah?” Virgil mumbled. The two walked in silence for a block. Virgil watched Logan’s eyes become distant. Logan watched the ice cream drift down the cone and pool at the base of their thumb.

Logan snuffed. Time ruined everything. It ate away at anything that brought them joy. Likewise, they never knew how much they had left. The fleeting number of manmade madness ticked down like a time bomb in their head. It was only a matter of time before they were discovered, returned, and cut away from the time Logan so desperately wanted to keep as their own.

How long would it be until time ripped Virgil from them as well?

“Hey, maybe we should head home,” Virgil spoke and stole a glance over his shoulder. “I mean-”

“Please,” Logan interrupted. They refused to look up and meet Virgil’s eyes.

Virgil nodded his head and sighed. “Okay. Let’s go home.”

The two turned down a corner and headed off in a different direction. Virgil stole glances over at Logan. They continued to stay frozen in thought as their ice cream melted all over their hand. Virgil sighed. Why did he open his mouth? Logan was doing just fine before he ruined it. They could’ve had a nice afternoon in the park watching birds or something domestic like that.

The city paid no mind to two strangers returning home. Had the people known the secrets hidden behind closed lips, they’d offer the two of them up in a heartbeat. Virgil pulled his hood up over his head. Logan would be targeted faster than him, but he still didn’t want to take the risk.

“Thank you for the ice cream,” Logan spoke. They looked over at Virgil and offered a quirk of their lips.

Virgil accepted Logan’s attempt at a smile and replied, “No problem.”

Logan thankfully broke out of their stupor and continued to eat their ice cream. They admitted it tasted no different melted. No matter if it was in a solid or liquid state, the ice cream still held a delectable sweetness to it that Logan enjoyed. If this ice cream could maintain its core being behind imperfect walls, was it possible for them to recover from the damage dealt to them for twenty years?

Logan glanced over at Virgil. Their urgency to return home distressed the older man. However, by nature, Virgil was a paranoid person. He always double-checked over everything to keep them safe. Logan wished it wasn’t their fault. Virgil reminded them numerous times he chose this and it was not Logan’s fault. Still, it never shook the blaring voice in Logan’s head that their escape was their choice and therefore their fault.

Virgil turned them down an alleyway and pushed a board out of the way. Logan slid inside first, and Virgil followed them soon after. The musty smell of their temporary home may have turned Logan’s stomach, but it was better than any over sanitized smell Logan experienced prior.

Logan curled up in the corner of their bed and sighed. They watched the last bits of their ice cream vanish into the cone and slosh around like Logan’s upset stomach. What were they supposed to do now? Did they drink the liquid inside or throw the cone away? It seemed like a waste of perfectly good food.

“You going to finish that?” Virgil asked. Logan snapped up from their thoughts and hummed. Virgil smirked. “You bite it, like eating a cracker.”

“It’s edible?” Logan questioned.

“Yeah dude,” Virgil demonstrated with his own half-eaten cone.

Logan stared down at the cone. They tested it with their tongue. The outside held no significant flavor despite the melted ice cream dribbling down the sides. They cast a cautious glare at Virgil before biting in. The crunch vibrated in their head. While its flavor dwarfed compared to the sugary treat inside, the cone brushed a satisfying texture on their tongue. Some of the ice cream gushed from the crevices and added to the flavor.

Logan bit in again, this time taking a bigger bite. They wondered if Virgil heard the same deafening crunch they did. Was it really that loud? Would others hear them? A quick glance at Virgil proved they had done the right thing, as Virgil smiled softly at them from his patched-up beanbag chair across the room.

“What do you think?” Virgil asked.

“It was indeed satisfactory,” Logan replied. They hesitated for a moment before adding, “I would like to enjoy another at a later date.”

“Cool. Next time, maybe we could try like chocolate or something.”

“Oh, I’ve had chocolate,” Logan perked up.  “It was not frozen, but it was solid. I believe it had caramel inside of it.”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “Did you like it?”

“It was-” Logan cut themself off. The smile slipped from Virgil's lips, and he swallowed his nerves back down his throat. Logan continued, “It was a reward for using my abilities for the first time.”

“Christ, I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t administer the chocolate yourself.”

“I mean, you shouldn’t have had to find out about chocolate that way.”

“Some things cannot be helped,” Logan mumbled. They finished up the ice cream and stared down at their sticky fingers. Washing them required leaving, and they were in no mood to escape and clean them now.

“If I spit on a tissue, you can clean that off,” Virgil joked. Logan wrinkled their nose, and Virgil snuffed through his. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“I’ve dealt with worse punishments,” Logan returned. The mirth from earlier disappeared again. Logan noted how they had a habit of making Virgil sad with just a few words. Perhaps they should stop talking. Perhaps if they erased the urge to disclose their past, Virgil could continue to be happy around him.

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Virgil pointed out. He crossed his arms. The pull from his fingers on the material suggested he wrapped himself into a hug.

“As I said earlier, some things cannot be helped,” Logan repeated. They leaned back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. Their eyes settled upon the third crack from the wall, and they sighed.

“I’m going to make sure it never happens again.”

Logan looked down and met fierce gray eyes. There was a soft sincerity behind it, engulfing Logan in a false sense of security. Virgil proved he would fight for Logan. Why, Logan would never understand. Virgil traded away everything Logan desperately desired just to return them to the normal world.  Still, he had no regrets.

A faint smile quirked on Logan’s lips. Virgil returned the gesture, and he pulled out his phone to scroll through the few contacts he kept in touch with.

Logan stared at the window. Rain clouds offered to cleanse the world of their stale conversation, and Logan watched the small droplets splatter on the window pane. Soon, the soothing rhythm of rain lulled Logan’s nerves away. If there was anything they loved more than being free, it was the sound of rain.

They stole a glance at Virgil curled up in the corner. He too stared out the window. Virgil enjoyed the rain as much as Logan did. Why, he never disclosed, but Logan assumed it had something to do with his past. With how horrible Logan’s own was, they never found themselves curious enough to learn Virgil’s story. They couldn't handle hearing if Virgil was subjected to the same horrors they were or not.

However, if Virgil did come from a past as troubled as their own, perhaps Logan could hold onto the thought of healing. They could move past everything and regain a normal life. They could use their abilities when they chose. They could command their own life as long as Virgil showed them the way.

Perhaps there was hope for them yet.

Logan fell asleep while watching the rain. They didn’t know how much time had passed, but they woke as thunder rumbled in the distance.

As Logan became more aware of their surroundings, they noticed Virgil drawing in his sketchbook. His eyes held a clouded milky gaze, and he stuck his tongue out between his lips as he concentrated.

Logan enjoyed the calm scratches of Virgil’s pencil against the paper. Virgil may have brushed off his talent, but Logan admired every line. They wished they could produce something out of nothing like Virgil could.

Virgil blinked, and he squinted down at his artwork. For a while, he studied the page in hand and chewed on the edge of his pencil. Logan knew that look.

“Again?” they asked.

Virgil’s head popped up from his notepad, and he dropped the pencil from his mouth.

“Yeah,” Virgil replied. He scratched the side of his head. “It’s that same person again. When I first saw it, I was sure I was drawing you, but it’s… off.”

“Off?” Logan mused. They shuffled over to Virgil’s side and stared down at the picture. The person Virgil drew stared back at him with loving eyes and laid down on their side.

“This person has freckles,” Virgil explained. He gripped onto his hair and gave a gentle tug. “I can’t figure it out. Like, do you have a doppelganger somewhere or something?”

Logan quieted at that. Virgil rose a brow and glanced over at his friend. Logan stood and returned to their side of the room without another word.

“Logan,” Virgil started, but he didn’t dare finish his sentence. Logan stared out the window past the raindrops and over the surrounding city.

“I… there is something from my past I have erased,” Logan mumbled.

Virgil swallowed the bile rising through his throat. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I… it could be a coincidence,” Logan mumbled. “There is only one person I know of who could look so similar to me, but I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Her?” Virgil questioned. Logan nodded their head. Virgil licked dry lips and inhaled deeply through his nose. “Logan, do you have a sister?”

“I used to,” Logan replied and released a long breath, “but not anymore.”

\--

_Subject # 240_  
Defect: Memory manipulation  
Sex: Male  
Age: 10  
Test #: 1,781

_Notes:  
Subject exhibits extreme paranoia when confronted with revealing the identity of Jane Doe’s twin. Theory suggests the subject is still covering up Event #602 and refuses to disclose information. Further prodding into familial history suggests the family no longer resides at their first residence to confirm this theory._

_Test: FAILED_

\--

Roman sat up in his bed and looked around.

The rain outside turned into a thunderstorm. Its anger shook the windows and blinded anyone who dared gaze at its fury. Rain pounded its fists on the glass.

Roman ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He jumped out of bed and brushed the chill off his arms. He couldn’t explain why, but the storm unnerved him. Perhaps it reminded him of his childhood. Harsh sounds never failed to set his younger self on edge.

Roman walked out to the kitchen and turned on the island light. The storm deafened slightly within the middle walls, but it still echoed from his room. Roman placed water in a kettle and put it over the stove. He turned it on and fished out a bag of chamomile tea and a bottle of raw honey.

As Roman sat down at the table, he supported his head with his palm. Perhaps he should’ve brought his phone with him. Now he was stuck on an island with his thoughts and no lifeboat to escape on.

For a moment, Roman wished his abilities worked on him. He’d give anything to fall into the sweet embrace of peace his voice emitted. His scars were not so easily healed. Every time he thought he was over the panic loud sounds brought, thunderstorms brought it back once again.

His head drifted over to the second bedroom of the apartment. As much as he hated going through thunderstorms alone, he hoped his roommate wouldn’t wake. It had been almost a year since Patton slept through a storm. The last thing he needed was-

The door creaked open, and Roman muttered a curse in his mind. Patton poked his head out of his door and glanced around.

“ _Ro, you okay_?” Patton asked in sign language. Roman snorted. Patton knew him too well. It wasn’t that he couldn’t talk during a storm, but loud words always locked up in his throat. He could barely whisper.

Patton, ever so lovely and supportive Patton, learned sign language just for him. He didn’t want Roman to feel like he was any weirder than he already was, so he refused to talk as well. If the thunderstorms didn’t steal Roman’s breath away, Patton sure did. His care knew no bounds. It fought back against any evils Roman faced.

Well, most evils. The heart could only do so much.

“ _Yes_ ,” Roman signed back.

Patton strolled out into the kitchen. He eyed Roman before sighing through his nose. He continued to sign, “ _I know you don’t like thunderstorms_.”

“ _Really, Patton, I’m fine_ ,” Roman lied. The kettle behind him whistled as if calling him out. Roman stood from the table and grabbed his white mug with “Fairest of them all” written on it. He placed the honey and tea bag in the mug and poured the hot water into the cup. The steam already calmed his nerves.

A hand pressed up against Roman’s back, and Roman jumped. He spun his head around. Patton stared down at Roman’s chest with pained eyes. Roman swallowed whatever bravado he put on and sighed through his nose.

“ _You’re lying again_ ,” Patton signed.

“ _I just didn’t want to upset you._ ” Roman sighed. “ _I may not be going to sleep soon, but you still have a chance_.”

“ _I can handle it._ ” Patton grimaced.

Roman turned, lifted Patton’s hand from his back, and rubbed his fingers over the knuckles. He whispered, “I wouldn’t mind sitting with you on the couch until we fall asleep.”

Patton sighed and accepted his offer. The two walked into the living room. Roman draped an arm over the back of the couch and waited for Patton to settle in next to him. The younger man curled up against Roman’s side, and Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulders.

“Have you been up long?” Patton vocalized.

Roman shook his head. He whispered back, “I only woke a few minutes ago.”

Patton watched Roman take a drink of his tea. He rested his head against Roman’s chest and sighed. The storm broke the silence between them. He felt Roman jump every time a loud crash sounded, and his grip on Roman’s chest tightened each time.

“Hopefully it’ll pass soon,” Patton mumbled.

Roman gave a hum of agreement. He glanced over at the remote on the nightstand beside him. The weather channel usually had relaxing music on its forecast. He turned the television on. The channel currently talked about a devastating typhoon near Japan, and Roman changed the channel. There was no need for such negativity now.

He settled on a news station which just so happened to be disclosing the weather at the moment.

_“-some passing storms, but it looks to be clearing up within the next 15 minutes-”_

Good. Roman exhaled and felt Patton shift under his grip. No doubt Patton was exhausted after a long day at work. Roman regretted keeping him up. However, Patton was too stubborn to go back to sleep without knowing Roman’s mental state improved.

The weather ended, and some reporters came on the television. Roman found his attention shifting in again.

_“-been six months since Logan Shea escaped from a mental institution in Greenmeadow-”_

“Who’s that?” Patton asked as he blinked at the screen. Roman reached over and grabbed the remote. He turned the television off before Patton could get a good look at the person on the screen.

“Just someone who escaped a hospital,” Roman replied in a slightly louder voice than before.  He yawned and leaned his head back on the couch. The tea was starting to work its miracle. Roman blinked up at the ceiling and fought it off.

“Ro, go to sleep. The storm’s almost over,” Patton ordered, but there was no bite in his voice. Roman gave a hum of acknowledgment.

The silence engulfed them once again. The storms threats paled as they disappeared over the mountains, and its weak flashes extinguished in the distance. Soon the sounds of the city overtook the silence. Horns blared, sirens wailed, and breaks squeaked, but none of those sounds could shake the peace Roman found on the couch.

Patton’s grip on Roman released as Roman’s anxiety slipped away. He could feel his body clinging to consciousness. However, he knew Roman would stay awake longer than he would.

Roman had a cheat code, after all.

Patton recalled the first time he heard Roman sing. He fell in love with his voice, and ever since, he listened to it every night before he fell asleep. Now, here he was in an apartment with him and able to hear the sweet melody in person.

It felt too good to be real. Patton wondered if his life was a fairytale, being rescued by a prince from his evil mother and her dragon. It’s not that Patton thought his mothers were abusive, but they definitely denied him of life. They shut him away from the outside world and forced him to be something he wasn’t.

Normal.

Roman started humming, and Patton knew it was all over. The gentle notes rose into a familiar rendition of Ave Maria. With each note, Patton’s grip on reality slipped farther and farther away. Roman started adding words to his song, and Patton’s eyes closed.

Roman admired the soft flutter of Patton’s eyelashes. His breath fell into even, deep inhales, and tickled the hair on Roman’s neck. Roman restrained himself from brushing a stray lock out of Patton’s face. Instead, he finished his song, picked up Patton into his arms, and walked him back to his room.

Patton didn’t stir as Roman placed him back in bed. Roman covered him up and turned off the light next to him. He then tiptoed out of the room. Roman stole one more quick glance at Patton before closing the door.

\--

_Subject # 240_  
Defect: Healing None  
Sex: Male  
Age: 6  
Test #: 45

_Notes:  
Subject exhibits no signs of healing himself or others. Cancellations for his study have been set in motion, and he shall be returned home soon._

_Test: FAILED_

\--

_Event # 547_  
Subject identification: #240  
Sex: Male  
Age: 6

_Notes:  
Subject exhibits the ability to distort memories as demonstrated on Dr. Patrickson this afternoon._

_Actions:  
Request for Subject #240 to be returned home denied. The subject shall stay to further research his new developing abilities._

_Status: ACTIVE_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil calls home and gets to talk to his family, who he misses very much. Turns out the search for Logan has started to pick up in the public eye, and Virgil and Logan aren’t the only ones suffering the consequences.  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: My lame attempt at family fluff  
> Word Count: 4100

_Subject # 240_  
Defect: Memory manipulation  
Sex: Male  
Age: 14  
Test #: 2,978

_Notes:  
Subject successfully erased a miscarriage from a family’s memories. Neither mother nor father recollect having an unborn child and wish to try again. Could be used for healthcare purposes later._

_Test: PASSED_

\--

Virgil waited for the skype call to pick up. His mom promised him some time with Flora, and he would wake up at six in the morning if he had to just to talk to his younger sister. The dots mocked his wait time with their constant flashing.

“They’re just busy,” Virgil mumbled to himself. “Maybe Flora had to use the bathroom.”

The dots continued to dance on the screen. Virgil bit his lip. He stole a glance up at Logan, who still slept soundly on their bed. Hopefully, his conversation wouldn’t wake them up. 

Virgil turned his attention back to the screen. He twisted the headphone cables between his fingers. It took all he had not to chew on the cable. Around and around and around the chord twisted. Around his trembling finger. Around his brain like a rubber band. Around his neck to suffocate him. Around like a coil ready to spring as soon as the pressure released.

Around when the call picked up, Virgil’s heart slowed. A pixelated face turned into bouncy black curls, cheerful brown eyes, and a smile that could chase away the dark.

“Virgil!” Flora chirped.

Virgil smiled. He greeted, “Sup, Flo. Your dress looks cute today.”

Flora looked down at her lilac dress with baby chicks on it. She beamed back at Virgil and giggled.

“Mommy got it at the store. She said it was cheap cheap!”

Virgil snorted at the pun. A woman loomed behind Flora, and the child turned her head.

“Mommy, Virgil called!”

“I see,” his mother spoke, and Virgil’s nerves melted away. He sunk lower into his beanbag as his muscles uncoiled, and his legs parted to lay limp against the wall and the floor. Flora slid to the side so her mother could lean into the call.

“Hey mom,” Virgil greeted in a softer tone.

His mother eyed him over and pulled Flora into a hug. “Good morning, Virgil. How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain too much,” Virgil replied.

“When are you coming home?” Flora asked.

Virgil’s heart pinched. He saw his pain manifest through his mother’s facial expression, and he sighed through his nose.

“I don’t know, Flo. I might be a little longer than I thought.”

The pout on Flora’s lips shoved the knife deeper into his heart. She sighed and blew a curl out of her face. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“Flora, it’s time to brush your teeth. We have to get you to school soon,” his mother reminded. Flora pouted up at her.

“Five more minutes?”

“No.”

“Two more minutes?”

“Flora.”

“One more minute-”

“Okay, one more minute, but then you have to go brush your teeth.”

“Yay,” Flora bounced in her seat. “Virgil, you should come to school too! There’s cookies and milk, and we have a huuuge slide that makes you go really fast, but make sure you come down on your bottom or the teachers will yell. Oh! Not my teacher though. He’s really nice. He makes funny voices at story time and plays pretend with us a lot. I think you’d like him.”

“Okay, Flora, that’s enough,” her mom spoke in a gentle tone.

“But I’m not done.”

“If you brush your teeth fast enough, maybe I’ll let you talk a little longer afterward.”

Flora gasped. “Bye Virgil!” She jumped out of the chair and raced out of the room, leaving her mom smiling to herself. Virgil couldn’t help but smile too. He wished he could be there with Flora right now. His mother took over Flora’s seat and turned toward the screen.

“I see you’ve been sleeping well,” his mother spoke in a dry tone.

“Yeah well,” Virgil replied and scratched his chin. His morning scruff tickled his fingers, “sorry about that. I mean, it’s not like I got much sleep at home either.”

“Your medicine came in the mail,” his mom reminded. “You should swing by and get it. I know your pop and dad have been meaning to talk to you about your little adventure with… Logan, did you say his name was?”

“They,” Virgil corrected.

“Sorry, their name was Logan, right?” his mom questioned.

“Yeah. Is something wrong?” Virgil asked.

The door behind his mother opened, and Virgil heard a repeating word spoken in the background. His mother looked up and smiled.

“Shoes, honey. The word you’re looking for is shoes.”

“That’s not the only thing I’m looking for. I’m late and can’t find those demon foot pads anywhere!”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh. He spoke back to his dad in Korean, “ _Did you check under the stairs?_ ”

The man double glanced at the screen, and he walked over to Virgil with a wide smile. “Well, look who decided to call home!”

“Just like every day,” Virgil replied.

“I know, just teasing,” his dad spoke back. His face grew sullen. “Hey, I was watching the news the other night, and they were talking about you two again. They raised the reward price on Logan.”

Virgil muttered a curse under his breath and earned a sour frown from his mother. He apologized and replied, “By how much?”

“At least fifty thousand,” his dad replied.

Virgil glanced up at Logan, still blissfully unaware of the conversation. How was he going to keep Logan safe if the reward for their return to the genetic facility kept rising? No doubt, soon some disgusting human being would recognize them and turn them in. Every day got riskier. They had to escape the country somehow and quick. Virgil knew he withdrew a lot of money when he “quit” working for the company, but would it be enough to get Logan safely over the border?

“Found them!” a voice shouted in the background. “Hey boo, they were under the stairs.”

Virgil covered his mouth to keep from laughing. A rather large man stepped in waving black dress shoes around. Virgil’s dad walked away from the camera towards the other man, their height difference almost comical, and stood on his tiptoes to plant a kiss to Virgil’s pop’s lips.

“You are a lifesaver, Terrell,” his dad spoke.

“Yooo, is that my young main man Virgil on the phone?” Virgil’s pop walked over toward them and beamed a smile that rivaled Flora’s own. “You look like you could use a cookie. How about you swing on over and I’ll make you a fresh batch. I’ll even make your favorite.”

“Tempting,” Virgil muttered back and shook his head. “I don’t know. You guys have to be watched like hawks by now.”

“Chased a few of them off our lawn the other day,” his mom mumbled. He watched his dad’s face light with pride.

His pop laughed and added, “She threatened if they didn’t get off our lawn, she’d start throwing the pink flamingos at them.”

“Not the flamingos,” Virgil said with a fake shocked gasp.

“Yes, the flamingos,” his mom added. “No one flocks with my house.”

Virgil ran a hand over his face and groaned. It earned a similar reaction from his family, and his mom laughed, mentioning how it wasn’t her best.

“I’m ready!” Flora chirped. She bounced into the room with her rainbow backpack and sat on her mother’s lap. She drew her lips back with her fingers. “Look at how sparkly they are!”

“Bright like you,” Virgil replied.

Flora pulled at one of her bottom right teeth and wiggled it. “Oh, Virjj, my tooff is woof! Look!”

“Better get the doorknob ready,” Virgil replied. He avoided his mother’s narrow gaze. “That’s great, Flo. What’s that, your second one?”

“Yeah! I hope I get ten dollars again.”

“We told you, sweetie, it was dark and the tooth fairy probably thought it was a one. I don’t think you’ll get that lucky this time,” Virgil’s pop spoke. His dad muttered something about American money all looking the same.

“We have to get going,” his mother broke the news, and two “awws” followed, one from Flora and one from Virgil’s pop. “I know, I know, big bad mom off to spoil your fun time.”

“It’s okay,” Virgil replied with a soft smile. “Maybe I’ll try to sneak over tomorrow night or something.”

“YAY!” Flora bounced in her mother’s lap. Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at that. Flora pressed her face close to the camera with puckered lips. “Mwwwah! Love you, Virgil!”

“Love you too, Flo. And Mom. And dad. And you too pop.” Virgil kissed two fingers and placed them up to the camera.

“We love you too,” his mom spoke.

“Be safe,” his dad added.

“And stay out of trouble,” his pop finished.

“I’ll try. Bye.”

The call ended, and Virgil slumped back into his beanbag. He rested his phone against his chest and melted into his chair. His fingers pulled the headphones out of his ears.

For a moment, Virgil enjoyed the peace of the small space. Sure, it wasn’t home, but it held a certain charm to it. The sun glistened through the stain glass windows above and cast an array of colors on the ground. Birds cooed outside, and the city buzzed with its natural serenade.

The bed across from him stirred, and Virgil watched Logan’s hand scrub over their face. They blinked at the ceiling. After a moment, they reached over to place their glasses onto their eyes and sat up.

“G’mornin,” Virgil mumbled.

Logan stretched their arms over their head and groaned. Virgil wondered if their makeshift bed of old pillows and ragged blankets was more or less comfortable than Logan was used to sleeping on. Logan wouldn’t tell. Virgil, however, noted how stiff they always were when they awoke.

“Good morning, Virgil,” Logan greeted. They looked over at the window and hummed. “I see the sun has risen without me once again.”

“You’re getting bad at staying up late. Soon, you’ll be just as bad as me,” Virgil teased.

Logan marveled at the lights casting down from the windows. They ran their hand through one of the green lights and observed how it changed the pigment of their skin. After a moment, they returned their attention back to Virgil and asked, “Where will our travels take us today?”

The smile slipped from Virgil’s lips. Logan watched him with curiosity, and Virgil cursed himself for having to be the bearer of bad news. Logan’s curiosity morphed into concern as Virgil explained what his dad told him.

“You should return me,” Logan said with a sigh. “Then you can return to your somewhat normal life at home and won’t have to worry about my well being-”

“No.”

Logan stopped and met Virgil’s fierce eyes. They swallowed before continuing, “Virgil, I am not worth sacrificing your entire life for.”

“The hell you’re not,” Virgil grumbled. “I didn’t waste 6 months of my life for nothing, Logan. I used them to give you a chance at one.”

Logan sighed deep through their nose. What life? What was a life always on the run? Logan could never enjoy a family’s love, form meaningful relationships with others, or find their purpose in life. That chance was stolen from them years ago. They could only stare through the window as the world lived on without them.

Virgil, on the other hand, could still be part of the world. Logan rarely caught glances of Virgil’s family, as Virgil kept most of his home life private, but they knew he had one to return home to. Why was he wasting his time here? What did Logan do to make Virgil take such pity on them? And more importantly, how could they make Virgil understand giving them a life did not justify throwing his away?

“Hey, you like Shakespeare right?” Virgil asked.

Logan blinked and nodded. “I did read it when I was allowed to. Why?”

“Well, ‘cuz, the city’s theater is putting on a show, and I thought maybe we could, you know, go see it.”

“Virgil, risking a chance out in public after the news disclosed my new bounty would be unwise. We could be seen.”

“But the theater is usually dark, so no one would get a good look at you.”

Logan sighed and ran a hand through their hair. It traveled to the base of their neck, and they rubbed it down their collarbone.

“If it would bring you joy, I will go see the play with you,” Logan responded.

Virgil offered a soft smile. It wasn’t that Virgil was a thespian or anything, but he enjoyed watching people attempt to put compelling stories into a limited amount of space. Everything was one shot. If someone messed up, they had to run with it. The pressures of performing turned Virgil’s stomach, but he liked watching others risk the odds.

“Then it’s settled. But first, we need to touch up your roots. Your blond is starting to show through.”

\--

 _Subject # 240_  
Defect: Memory manipulation  
Sex: Male  
Age: 6  
Test #: 58

_Notes:  
The subject was able to successfully learn how to read a sentence through another’s memory. No private tutor is required to teach the Subject how to read._

_Test: PASSED_

\--

Flora bounced off the school bus and ran inside. A teacher warned her to use her walking feet, so she slowed her pace. The halls reeked of Clorox trying to be fresh laundry. She could see her dark reflection in the tiles, and the fluorescent lights illuminated her path to the classroom. Scribbled on pictures decorated the walls, each with a student’s name underneath, and some even had an attempted name on them.

Her eyes caught sight of the picture she drew of her and Virgil holding hands. Eventually, she’d give it to him.

Flora turned the corner to her classroom. Some kids already played together on the floor, while others read books or did puzzles. Her gaze fell upon her teacher, who sat at his desk and yawned.

“Hey Mr. Shea,” Flora greeted.

Her teacher turned to her, and his smile perked up. “Good morning, Flora. How are you today?”

“I got to talk to Virgil this morning!”

“Did you now?” Mr. Shea rose a brow. “What did he say?”

“He said he’s coming home soon!”

“That’s great. Would you like me to take your picture down so you can give it to him?”

“Pretty please,” Flora leaned in and bounced on the arm of his chair. Mr. Shea laughed and hovered a hand over her head. He withdrew it and put it back on his lap.

“Okay, as soon as I can, I’ll go bring it back inside.”

“Thank you!” Flora chirped. Mr. Shea offered a high five, and Flora smacked it as hard as she could. Mr. Shea pulled back and reminded her gentle high fives felt better. Flora sheepishly tried again, and this time, her hand stung less. She beamed and bounced off to play with her friends.

Mr. Shea leaned in on his hand and observed his class. He turned a sigh into a yawn and ran a hand over his face. Staying up late last night did nothing for him in the morning, but it was worth it.

While sitting at his desk, he noticed the teacher across the hall, Judy Spencer, staring at him with a cautious eye. The elderly teacher always had a problem with his teaching habits, saying he was too soft on his students and they required a firmer hand. However, today, it seemed like her gaze held a new emotion behind it. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it felt like she was studying him like a creature at the zoo.

“Morning, Judy,” Mr. Shea called over.

The woman curled her lip and went back to berating her class about something. Mr. Shea shook his head. He never understood how she hadn’t lost her voice yet or kept her teaching position.

“Mr. Shea!” a boy called out as he ran into the classroom. Mr. Shea looked up and smiled as a boy named Timothy ran up to his desk. “I saw you on the news last night!”

“Did you?” Mr. Shea asked with a tilt of his brow. Strange, he didn’t remember getting an interview. Perhaps he was a civilian passing by?

“Yeah! I didn’t know your first name was Logan.”

“It’s not,” Mr. Shea spoke with a laugh. “I think you’re confused.”

“But he looked just like you,” Timothy pouted.

“He might have, but it wasn’t me,” Mr. Shea spoke and chuckled. “Run along, Tim. David’s been waiting for you all morning.”

Timothy pouted, turned, and forgot about the conversation as soon as he joined his friend in the book area.

Mr. Shea leaned back in his chair. He wondered if he had a cousin named Logan or something, but he shook it off. Some people coincidentally looked like other people. For example, there were two girls, Sasha and Eva, who weren’t related, but he had a heck of a time telling them apart. Something about their round face shapes and haircuts threw him.

The clock on his desk struck nine, and Mr. Shea stood up.

“Everybody to your seats, to your seats, to your seats,” he sang to the tune of ‘London Bridge.’ The kids stopped what they were doing, some even singing along, and sat down at their desks.

Mr. Shea started off his day just like any normal day. He asked them if they did anything fun the night before, what they had for supper, who was going anywhere special for the weekend, and other questions.

“I’m going to the play tonight at Tower Theater,” one girl, Shanaya spoke up.

“Oh?” Mr. Shea smiled. “I’ll be there too.”

Shanaya gasped. “Can I sit with you?”

Mr. Shea laughed. He shook his head and replied, “As much as I’d love to, you really should stay with your parents.” Shanaya pouted, but she didn’t protest further.

He listened to three other stories before reviewing the letter of the week. Some students chattered in the back, and he started to whisper. The class quieted down to listen to his words, and Mr. Shea slowly raised his voice to a normal level.

Eventually, after handing out a worksheet and helping two students write the letter, it was time for recess. He lined his students up with a “one, two, three, four, everybody at the door” and they finished with a “five, six, seven, eight, hurry up or we’ll be late.”

Mr. Shea grabbed his whistle and handed it over to his line leader to carry. The boy beamed as the red string slipped over his hair. Mr. Shea led the class outside. Some whispered between one another, while others told them to shush.

Once outside, the teacher gave a hearty “Be free!” and the kids screamed as they raced out of line and onto the playground. He watched his students interact with one another, some pushing others on the swing while others waited for their turn on the slide. He mentally avoided the monkey bars. Something about watching the kids dangle so far from the ground unnerved him.

More kids came onto the playground, and Mr. Shea groaned. He forgot he had Duty with Judy today. The other teachers pitied him for having to put up with the crabby older teacher by himself, but he always brushed it off. After all, sometimes Mrs. Spencer would have something interesting to say.

Sometimes.

“Good afternoon, Judy,” he greeted. The woman peeked over her moon shaped glasses and grumbled a greeting to him.

Mr. Shea rocked on his toes and sucked in a breath. The chill from her posture could turn any summer day to winter. He put his hands behind his back and watched his kids run around.

“Heathens, all of them,” Mrs. Spencer grumbled.

“Oh come now. They’re not all that bad,” Mr. Shea replied.

Mrs. Spencer rolled her eyes. Mr. Shea cleared his throat, and he continued to attune his eyes anywhere other than where Mrs. Spencer stood. She, however, was perfectly content staring at him.

“Is something wrong?” Mr. Shea asked.

“How long have you been working for the school?” Mrs. Spencer asked.

“Gosh, Judy, you were here when I started. Don’t you remember? I bought an apple crumb pie for you, and you said you were allergic.”

She hummed and nodded her head. “Answer the question.”

“This is my second year,” Mr. Shea answered.

“And where did you say you went to school?”

“I took online classes, mostly from North Samson. My moms wouldn’t let me out of the house much.”

“I can see why,” she sneered. Mr. Shea’s chest pinched, and he sucked in a deep breath. An uncomfortable silence settled between the two. He wished he could scream like his students right about now.

“Why do you ask?” Mr. Shea questioned. “Is this about my methods again?”

“No reason,” Mrs. Spencer answered. Her eyes, however, told a different story. She continued to give Mr. Shea that studying stare, and his skin crawled like it was infested with beetles.

“Since when have you ever done something without reason?” Mr. Shea commented. He heard her use the phrase so many times to justify her actions, how she yelled only because “the kids made her” or how she took their recess away because they were “just bad kids” and whatnot.

“Mr. Shea,” the woman hissed with a tilt of her nose, “I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbled.

She eyed him over her glasses once again, and she grumbled, “You wouldn’t happen to have a brother, would you?”

“Can’t say I do,” Mr. Shea spoke. He peeked out of the corner of his eye. “Why?”

“Well, as you know, it’s our job to keep the community safe, teaching the world’s future leaders and all that mushy drama that goes with it. I was just making sure our kids are safe.”

What did she mean by that? Mr. Shea’s chest constricted, and he forced his mind away. Surely Mrs. Spencer wasn’t insinuating he was a threat to his students, was she? And on what grounds would she have to accuse him so? A million reasons rushed through his head, but he pushed them away.

Mr. Shea thought back to the conversation he had with Timothy that morning. He ran his tongue over his lips, and he asked, “Are you talking about someone on the news who happened to look like me?”

“Not just look like you, Mr. Shea. He had the same last name as you.”

“Logan Shea,” he mumbled to himself. He repeated it twice before he shook his head. “Sorry, it doesn't ring a bell. Must just be a coincidence or something.”

“Must be,” she grumbled.

The rest of the recess shifted into an uncomfortable silence between them. Honestly, he preferred it.

After his strange conversation with Mrs. Spencer, he avoided talking with the other teachers. For some reason, he didn’t feel up to it. His mind kept drifting to the show tonight and how excited he was for it. Some crabby old bat wouldn't ruin that for him at least.

The day finished, and Mr. Shea caught the bus to his home. It stopped in front of the local theater, and he hummed. Already people lined up to get their tickets. He hopped off the bus and crossed the street to his apartment on the other side.

Mr. Shea rode the elevator up to the top floor and traveled down the hall toward his room. He loosened the tie around his neck and took a breath of fresh air. He hated how constricting the darn thing was.

Almost forgetting to pull his keys from his pocket, Mr. Shea opened his door and closed it behind him. He caught sight of his roommate sitting on the couch and going over the lines in his book. A fond smile lit up on his face.

“You’re going to do fine,” he spoke out.

His roommate turned, his smile beaming. “Welcome home!”

Mr. Shea sighed and pulled his cardigan off of his shoulders. “Hey, Roman. You wouldn’t believe the day I had today.”

\--

 _Event # 602_  
Subject identification: #240  
Sex: Male  
Age: 7

_Notes:  
Subject has been muttering the name “Macy” in his sleep._

_Actions:  
Request for a background search on Subject 240’s family history to see if anyone named Macy occurs. Request to have any positive matches tested for genetic mutations._

_Status: ACTIVE_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Logan head off to see the show. Logan discovers they may have an advantage they never realized. Apparently there’s someone in town that looks a lot like them, and they don’t know whether they should be relieved or concerned to be mistaken for them.  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: non-con touching, mentions of xenophobia  
> Word Count: 5285

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't follow on Tumblr, I wanted to let you know the update schedule of this story is Wednesdays and Saturdays, usually around 8am EST :)

_Subject # 240_  
Defect: Memory manipulation  
Sex: Male  
Age: 22  
Test #: 6,234

_Notes:  
Subject has been asked to read the memory of a random street cat. The subject was unable. Theory points to Subject only able to read human memories._

_Test: FAILED_

–

Virgil treasured the soft jawline and the sweep of the person’s curls. He counted the freckles dotting their nose, cheeks, neck, man, this person was covered in them! Those eyes… he knew those eyes. They were so familiar, like a long lost childhood friend who recently showed up on his doorstep, yet unfamiliar, like a well traveled path covered by newly grown brush. The person’s skin, ivory like it had been kept out of the sun for years, painted a faint blush on their cheeks.

Scritch. Scratch.

The two of them were surrounded in a dimly lit room. So many shadows bobbed and weaved around them. Some shadows Virgil could tell apart from one another, like an acquaintance in a nightclub. Others were nothing more than dark eyes and Cheshire cat grins.

Scritch. Scratch. Scratch. Scritch.

The person looked at them and fluttered their dark eyelashes. He never saw such soft eyelashes before. They brushed against their cheeks, which lit up with a smile as bright as the moon. Their soft blue eyes twinkled like the night sky.

Scritch. Scritch. Scratch.

The person leaned in to whisper. Their rose petal lips shimmered in the low light like the moon on a lake. Virgil tried to hear them, but the surrounding song of shadows swallowed every single syllable.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Virgil blinked his mind back into reality. His eyes failed to focus right away in the dim light, but he could tell his mind did it again. He didn’t remember picking up his sketchbook or when he began. He knew he watched Logan take a nap before the theater show, saying something about how they wanted to make sure they were highly rested because they didn’t know how being surrounded by a bunch of people in a dark room was going to go. Frankly, Virgil was a bit nervous as well. This could expose them both. However, Virgil made a promise to Logan that he’d help them live a normal life, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to, even with all the problems they ran into.

Virgil blinked down at the page once again. The page cleared, and Virgil groaned. He should’ve known. He didn’t draw anyone else recently it seemed. He thought when he freed Logan, he’d stop, but here he was still drawing the same vague person over and over again for the past five years.

Seriously, who the heck  _was_ this?

A floorboard creaked, and Virgil sprung up from his spot on the bean bag chair. He used his phone’s flashlight to shine around the apartment. His heartbeat kept in time with his shallow breaths.

A black and brown headed cat popped out from the boxes and padded out into the clearing. It meowed before sitting in front of Virgil and staring up at him. Its golden eyes squinted and blinked past the light. Virgil let out a long sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s just you Hobo.”

The cat, now dubbed Hobo, stood up and began weaving between Virgil’s legs. It let out happy chitters and chirps as its slender tail twitched. Virgil smiled and put his phone in his pocket. He picked up the purring puffball. Hobo rubbed its head against Virgil’s cheeks and twitched its tail back and forth.

Virgil turned and flopped into his bean bag chair. Hobo climbed onto his shoulder and began to knead its claws into the hood of his sweatshirt.

No doubt he’d have cat hair in his nose later.

“Have you been home lately?” Virgil asked the cat. Hobo continued to knead. Virgil sighed through his nose and added, “I guess your home really is wherever I go, huh.”

Hobo stopped kneading his shoulder and patted its paws until it settled in his lap. Its tail curled over his right arm as if holding him in a hug. Golden eyes blinked up at Virgil. Hobo then returned to a half awake daze of purring and tail twitches.

Virgil’s fingers brushed over Hobo’s short fur. Honestly, when he met the stray cat two years ago, he’d never thought the cat would follow him everywhere. He secretly wondered if it was someone who escaped the genetics lab, but there’d be no way of knowing unless Hobo decided to reveal it.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Like, is this really what Logan wants? They keep telling me to take them back, but it doesn’t feel right. I just want to help them, ya know? But am I really? I mean, I guess it’s kinda scary being in a world you don’t know anything about, but it’s not fair. They should know what ice cream tastes like, and how the wind feels when you drive with your windows down, and how nice it feels to laugh, and how a family really should be. Why does the world have to be afraid of people like us?”

Hobo stared up at him and blinked, for Hobo was a cat and could not answer.

Virgil sighed and ran a hand through Hobo’s fur. He leaned his head back against the leather of the bean bag.

“It’s because we have the potential of injuring them.”

Virgil’s head popped up. At some point when Virgil wasn’t paying attention, Logan had started reading in their corner of the room. They looked over at Virgil with bored eyes.

“Come on. I draw the future and you see people’s memories. What damage could we do?” Virgil asked.

“I’ve seen people who can make things spontaneously explode, and I have watched someone melt the inside of someone’s head until it came out of their mouth. I have seen a dark plague leak out of people’s eyes. I have watched people devoid the air of oxygen, and I have heard thoughts in my head I would not ever dare to think otherwise had someone not planted them there.”

“Okay, so some people had more dangerous powers than us, but just because they don’t know us doesn’t mean they have to be afraid of us.”

“That’s the thing, Virgil,” Logan sighed. “Humans fear that which they don’t understand. Xenophobia is one of the more profound human phobias out there.”

“Yeah, well, it’s stupid,” Virgil grumbled.

Logan sighed and nodded their head. They closed the book in their hand and brushed their fingers over the velvet cover. Their mind drifted to the events about to occur. The only plays they had read from Shakespeare were “Hamlet” and “Romeo and Juliet.” They wondered if “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” would follow the same tragic story as Shakespeare’s other works. Perhaps after tonight, Virgil and they could go to a bookstore and purchase more of Shakespeare’s works.

“You ready to head out?” Virgil asked.

Logan set their book on the nightstand and nodded their head. They grabbed the hat and striped scarf they used to go out, thankful that the chilly autumn air would divert any suspicions people had of a stranger in a lot of concealing clothing. Virgil watched them get ready, and Logan’s body stiffened.

“Is there something I can assist you with?” Logan asked.

“Wha-no,” Virgil replied and cleared his throat. He put Hobo off to the side and stood from his spot. The cat looked up at him, its tail flicking in annoyance, and it sat on the floor.

“How long will it take us to travel to this theater?” Logan asked.

“Not long. It’s just a few blocks down.”

The two set off on their journey, careful to make sure no one watched as they exited the building. They set into a steady stride next to one another. People bustled about without paying any mind to them. Still, Logan pulled their scarf closer to their mouth to divert any attention.

The lights of the city’s theater glowed like a beacon. People stood in a line outside of the doors and chattered. They sounded excited to see someone, but Logan could only pay attention to the people checking bags at the door. What if the guards made them remove their hat? Would someone figure out who they were? What would happen then?

Virgil put a hand to Logan’s shoulder, and Logan tried not to flinch away.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Virgil whispered. The two of them stopped at the edge of the line. “I’m going to go buy us our tickets. Can you wait here for me? I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded their head on reflex. They watched Virgil leave, and Logan felt more exposed than when they were stripped down and strapped to an operating table. Their hands quivered as they wrapped them around their arms.

“Mr. Shea!” a voice chirped behind them. Logan stiffened. A hand pulled on the back of their jacket, and Logan spun around. They rose a brow, and the child bounced on their feet.

“Hello,” Logan replied in a wary voice. They knew it. They knew coming out after their face was plastered on the news would be catastrophic.

The child blinked up at them, and their eyes widened. The child sheepishly slipped away from Logan and buried their face into their mother’s side.

Logan wrinkled his brow. Did the child no longer wish to speak to them? They watched the child look at them then return to burying their face in their mother’s side. The woman looked down and gave her child a gentle stroke through their hair. The child relaxed a little then spoke to the person standing beside their mother.

Logan returned their attention back to the line ahead of him. What odd behavior. Was the child suddenly afraid of Logan?

“I got them,” Virgil spoke as he returned to Logan’s side. Logan met his eyes then looked away. Virgil creased his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“A child used my last name to refer to me then returned to their mother’s side,” Logan mumbled. Virgil’s heart panicked.

“Which child?”

Logan nudged their head behind them. The child in question now played a game on their mother’s phone, and their mother started to converse with her husband. Surely if they really recognized Logan, they’d have been in more distress, right?

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” Virgil mumbled. “Maybe we should head back.”

Logan sighed. They shook their head and looked down at the ground. Truth be told, they still thought this was a horrible idea, but Virgil was so adamant about introducing them to the real world, they felt guilty. After all, they owed Virgil their freedom.

“I would like to see it,” Logan replied, “the play that is.”

Virgil ran a hand over his face. He looked around. No one else seemed to care that they stood in line, much less knew who they were.

“Okay,” Virgil replied. He stood rather close to Logan and offered silent support. Logan brushed their shoulders against Virgil’s own. Virgil took a deep breath and glanced over at them. Despite the nerves, Virgil was sure Logan had, they looked irrationally calm.

Soon the line started moving forward. The guards at the door paid them no mind, especially since they had no bags. Virgil blew a heavy breath through his lips.

Logan sucked in a breath as they stepped into the theater. Gold trim surrounded the high ceiling. Three gigantic chandeliers illuminated an angel painted canvas above them. Red curtains lined the entryways, and workers stood at the doors and greeted their visitors. A large clock loomed over a marble staircase at the end of the lobby, and Logan looked down at the polished floors. Their reflection stared back at them, and their shoes squeaked as they walked across the floor.

“You want anything to eat?” Virgil asked. “I think they have popcorn for sale. I could get you a bottle of water or something.”

“Water would be satisfactory,” Logan spoke.

“Okay. Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Virgil ordered. Logan watched Virgil join the line of people waiting for concessions. As Virgil stopped, he turned and flashed Logan a smile. Logan quirked their lips in return.

While waiting, Logan continued to observe the theater. The white pillars stopped the ceiling above the doors from collapsing. Several pictures lined the walls. Logan crept closer to them. They observed the names written underneath the pictures, and each held a squiggled autograph on the poster. Were they all famous at one time? Did they all perform here? What was their story? Some looked rather old, while others barely held a scratch. If-

A shrill whisper like a deflating tire hissed to their left, and Logan turned their head. They furrowed their brow. Perhaps they were hearing things.

The whisper sounded again, and Logan backed up. Were they not supposed to touch the picture? Had they gotten too close? Logan turned around. Virgil still stood in line, one spot away from purchasing food, and didn’t pay Logan any mind.

As Logan started to walk away, hands grabbed onto their shoulder. They yelped as velvet red curtains crushed their body and spit them out on the other side. Logan’s heart leaped. It was over. They found them, and their downfall was their curiosity as normal.

“I’m freaking out,” the person behind them spoke. Logan swallowed the lump in their throat, but it refused to move. The fingers on their shoulder trembled. The person blew through their lips, and goosebumps rose on the back of Logan’s neck.

Logan’s eyes turned first. They didn’t dare turn around completely. Their head followed, and they glanced over their shoulder at the person behind them.

The first thing Logan noticed were glistening green eyes. The veins around the irises were exposed and suggested the person was in emotional distress. Heavy black lines accented the difference between their eyes and their skin, and their eyelashes clumped with some sort of liquid.

The next thing Logan noticed was how the person’s teeth chewed on their lips. Virgil did the same thing when he was nervous and his pencil wasn’t around. The person swallowed hard, and their Adam’s apple bobbed.

Logan’s eyes settled on their caramel colored hair, long and pulled back into a ponytail behind their head. A light scruff lined their jaw. Logan’s eyes traveled down their neck, which led to a loose collared white shirt tucked behind tight black pants. Logan’s eyes traveled back up their body to connect with their green eyes once again. A jolt shot through Logan’s spine.

Did this person know them? Logan paused. Should Logan know them? They were sure they never met them before, but those eyes.

Why was their heart pounding?

“Are you wearing foundation?” the person asked them.

Logan furrowed their brow. They didn’t recall wearing a supportive structure. Oh! Maybe this was a slang vocabulary term they hadn’t learned yet. Perhaps the person referred to their hat or scarf.

“Yes,” Logan spoke, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

The stranger smiled. “You look beautiful.”

Heat rose to the outside of Logan’s face. Did the temperature adjust itself in the building or was Logan overstressed from interacting with a stranger?

“Thank you,” Logan mumbled back. He fought against his better judgment and acknowledged the stranger’s emotional distress. “What seems to be troubling you?”

The smile fell from the stranger’s lips, and they ran a hand over their slicked back hair.

“Connor got sick, which means Jared will be playing Lysander, but I haven’t practiced with him in forever. I mean, I know Jared is a fantastic actor and I trust him to do well, but what if he says something funny and I lose my composure? I’m so used to Connor’s quirks that I can keep a straight face but Jared likes to say things just to throw me off. What if I lose it? What if I trip over a line or laugh or-”

Logan watched the person fail to take in an adequate breath of oxygen. They reached out and grabbed onto the person’s shoulders, and they earned a shocked gasp in return.

“I’m sure everything will work itself out,” Logan comforted.

A heavy sigh deflated the person’s chest. They spoke, “Yes, I’m sure I’m overthinking this, but what if there’s a producer or a director in the audience and I make a complete fool of myself in front of them? I never felt this nervous before.”

“Then recreate your nerves into energy. Adopting the right attitude can convert a negative stress into a positive one,” Logan retorted.

The stranger furrowed a brow and tilted his head. “What a strange… philosophical moment for you. That’s actually quite clever.”

“It’s a quote from the late Hans Selye, who was well known for diverting stressful situations,” Logan explained. They recalled receiving the book when their stomach refused to keep down food for three days. The doctors said it was stress related. It must’ve worked because Logan stopped getting sick soon after.

“Of course you would know that,” the stranger spoke with a laugh. They scratched the side of their head. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe all I have to do is take all these nerves and make myself more in tune with the character.”

Logan nodded their head. The person put their hands on Logan’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. Logan glanced down at the person’s hand, and then back up. Their body tingled as the stranger stared at them with such a soft expression it could rival a cloud.

“If I get lost, I’ll just look into your eyes and find my confidence again,” they said with a rather endearing smile.

Logan quirked their lips into an attempt of a smile, and they nodded their head.

The stranger pulled Logan close. Every muscle in Logan’s body froze solid. From here, they could smell the fresh peppermint flavored cologne on the stranger’s neck, and they marveled at how soft the person’s skin felt against their cheek. The stranger sighed and wrapped their fingers around Logan’s back.

“Thank you. You always know just what to say to me,” the stranger whispered.

Logan felt a bit guilty. Whoever this person mistook them for was someone the stranger trusted dearly. Was Logan violating their trust by speaking to them? Would they be angered if they found out? Logan was sure if the person found out the one they spoke to was not the person they intended, they’d feel a range of negative emotions, especially since Logan was an escaped prisoner. Or worse, would they assume Logan injured their friend?

Speaking of friends, Logan was sure Virgil would have finished by now. He was probably worried out of his mind.

Logan pushed away from the stranger, but they didn’t seem bothered by the lack of touch.

“I need to go,” Logan informed.

“Of course. I should be getting ready as well,” the stranger replied. They lifted Logan’s hand to their lips and placed a gentle kiss. The heat on Logan’s face returned. “I’ll keep an eye out for you, my sweet Patton.”

Patton? Is that who this person confused him for? Logan opened their mouth to correct the stranger, but they already walked away down the long corridor. Logan furrowed their brows. What a strange interaction. They wondered if the stranger and their friend were good friends or family of some sort. Logan watched them disappear into a door, and they stepped back out from behind the curtain.

As Logan predicted, Virgil had gotten out of line. They noticed the trail of spilled popcorn from the spot Logan should’ve been to the theater entrance. They looked around. Virgil was nowhere in sight. A new panic overtook Logan. What if someone discovered who Virgil was? What if Virgil left to look for them, but they were here all along? What if Virgil worked himself into a panic and couldn’t function enough to find them? Would they find him? Would it ruin Virgil’s night? He risked so much to bring Logan out, and here Logan was squandering that good will.

“You!”

Logan turned as arms pulled them into a tight hug. They nearly lost their balance and fell into the wall behind them. Virgil’s arms shook as he held them.

“You scared the crap out of me. Don’t do that!” Virgil hissed in their ear.

A wave of guilt welled up in Logan’s stomach, and they rose their hand to pat Virgil on the back. “I deeply apologize, Virgil. It was not my intention to frighten you.”

“Yeah, well congratulations,” Virgil growled. He recoiled and sighed. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Was I gone for a significant amount of time?”

“Just enough to worry me,” Virgil replied. He pulled away and exhaled again through his nose. “Let’s face it though, that’s not hard to do.”

“I am used to it by now, yes,” Logan responded.

“Where were you anyway? I combed the whole theater looking for you.”

They turned and took one glance back at the curtain. With a soft voice, they informed, “I met someone. Well, more like this person pulled me behind a curtain and spoke to me themselves, but that’s where my time went.”

A new emotion covered Virgil’s face, and Logan’s heart pounded.

“Who was it? What did they look like? What did they say?” Virgil questioned. His voice held that deep tone he reserved for when he restrained his anger. Logan bit the inside of their cheek.

“I didn’t receive their name, but they looked to be an actor in the play with their late Elizabethan era clothing,” Logan recalled the conversation. “I think they confused me for someone else, as they acted quite familiar with me. They asked if I wore foundation.”

A new emotion coated Virgil’s eyes. Logan watched as Virgil held his breath and pursed his lips.

“And what did you say?”

“Yes,” Logan replied, and a laugh escaped Virgil’s nose. Logan furrowed their brow. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

Virgil shook his head and patted Logan on the back. “Let’s just go inside and find our seats, okay?”

Logan furrowed his brow. What was this strange foundation that made Virgil laugh? Was it not his hat or his scarf? Two greeters watched them enter the seating area. Logan’s eyes ran over the rows upon rows of seating, some with people already waiting and others chatting casually in the isles.

Virgil led them somewhere in the middle, because apparently the rows were named in alphabetical order then numerical order, and sat down. Logan turned their head about. The aesthetic inside the theater was the same as the lobby. A second row of seats towered above them, and Logan wondered how many people could comfortably sit inside. More seats stood on both walls on top of a large balcony, but Logan couldn’t see how deep they ran from their position.

Soon, a voice hushed the crowd and reminded them to turn off or silence all electrical devices. Logan watched Virgil turn his phone off then slide it back into his pocket.

The lights dimmed, and a soft song started playing. Logan noticed a ton of instrumented humans playing below the ground floor. They wondered how music got transferred from those large pieces of wood and metal into the black round disks the institute played to calm his mind as a child. The curtains opened, and two people stood on the stage. Logan watched them move with intent eyes. The actors’ old English sounded like the text in his books, long and winded and losing much meaning in his monolingual mind.

More people joined in, and Logan’s heart jumped. They tugged on Virgil’s sleeve. Virgil turned to them with a quirked brow.

“That’s the person I met,” they spoke as they leaned over.

“Which one?”

“The one with the long, light brown hair in a ponytail.”

Virgil’s eyes settled on the person like a hawk observing its prey. Logan, instead, watched the person move around. He found the character’s name was Demetrius. Logan couldn’t care less about the boring theatrics or tiring love story told, but they found themselves intent on paying attention to Demetrius’s actor. Something about the way they moved enchanted them.

Without much warning, the play stopped. Logan blinked. Was it over already? They glanced over at Virgil.

“What an unsatisfactory ending,” Logan mumbled.

“It’s an intermission,” Virgil informed them. “You know, for people to grab snacks or go to the bathroom.”

“Oh,” Logan replied. “So it’s not over?”

“No,” Virgil spoke and smiled. “What do you think so far?”

“The love web is boring, the acting is somewhat enjoyable but often unconvincing, the characters are all annoying and pointlessly dull, and I don’t understand why a father would choose to put his child to death for not marrying the one she had chosen. It’s her life and not his, am I correct?”

Virgil’s smirk turned into snickers. He shook his head. “Wow, so I guess you’re not having a good time?”

“I don’t understand any of this,” Logan grumbled.

“So, do you want to leave?” Virgil asked.

“Despite my lack of interest, I’d like to see how it turns out. Knowing Shakespeare’s other works, this still could prove to be entertaining.”

“Okay then,” Virgil replied.

The two of them sat in the silence of the theater and waited for the intermission to end. Virgil’s shoulder stayed pressed against Logan’s side. He feared Logan was only here to entertain Virgil, but every time Virgil looked over, they looked to be heavily invested in one of the characters. Interestingly enough, it was the character Virgil thought Logan would like the least.

However, they may have been more interested in the actor than the character.

After the play ended, the crowd burst into applause. Some started rising to their feet, and Logan looked at Virgil for an explanation.

“It’s common courtesy,” Virgil informed, “to stand when you think it was pretty awesome.”

Logan nodded their head. They and Virgil stood and applauded with the crowd as well. The actors walked on stage to take one last bow. Logan watched flowers rain onto the stage, along with whistles, hoots, and hollers, when the main characters came to bow. The curtain closed, and people started to file out.

“So, what did you think?” Virgil asked.

“The ending, while lacking in a mortality rate, was rather satisfying.” Logan hummed. “Perhaps death is not needed to create an impactful story.”

“Perhaps?” Virgil laughed.

The theater paid them no mind as it cleared out. After a significant amount of people left, Virgil and Logan exited the theater. Some actors stood in the lobby and thanked people for coming, some took pictures, and others chatted idly with people they knew. Virgil hastened Logan to the door. The last thing he wanted was to lose them again or have their pictures taken.

That’s when Virgil stopped dead in his tracks, and Logan nearly walked off without him. Those curls. Those freckles. Those eyes.

It was  _them_.

“Virgil?” Logan inquired.  They tried to follow Virgil’s line of sight.

All senses left Virgil as he ushered himself through the crowd. Logan called his name over and over and excused themself as they tried to catch up.

It had to be  _them_. It was too much of a coincidence. Virgil’s heart raced. Finally, he’d have answers. Finally, he’d know their name. Finally, he could stop imagining them and get to know-

A woman crashed into him, and Virgil fell onto his back. The woman curled a lip and sneered at him.

“Watch where you’re going, you heathen,” the woman hissed. Virgil watched her walk away and wrinkled his nose.

“Well excuse me,” he mumbled.

Logan stopped at Virgil’s side and helped him up.  They asked, “Are you uninjured?”

“Mostly,” Virgil grumbled and straightened out his hoodie. He turned his attention back to the crowd. He scanned again. And again. Again.

No.

 _No_ , he lost them!

Virgil searched around the room, his head whipping around like a flag in a hurricane. They couldn’t have gotten far! They still had to be here. They had to.

“Virgil, what’s happened?” Logan asked.

“I saw them. The person I’ve been drawing. They were right there!” Virgil curled his hands into fists. Why did he have to run into that woman? Why did he have to lose sight of the only chance he could have had to find this person and solve the mystery once and for all?

“Virgil, I haven’t seen anyone that fits the description of the mystery person in your art. Are you feeling ill? Perhaps we should return home as soon as possible.”

Virgil looked around one last time. Did he really imagine them? Was it just someone he thought looked like them? Was he losing his mind?

Probably.

Virgil sighed through his nose. “Yeah, okay.”

Logan pulled a hesitant arm around Virgil’s shoulder. They lead him out the door, and Virgil shivered as he stepped out into the open air.

“I was sure I saw them,” Virgil grumbled. He stole a glance over his shoulder at the disappearing theater lights and sighed heavily through his nose.

“When we return home, I am making sure you get an adequate amount of sleep,” Logan informed.

“Yeah, good luck.”

“This is not open for discussion. You are sleeping when we arrive at our home. I do not care how many belly rubs Hobo demands.”

Virgil snorted through his nose. He was about to make some sort of snarky comeback when the ground rumbled. Distant screams, alarms, and shattering glass followed suit. Logan pulled Virgil closer to their chest.

A loud rumble, like a barreling freight train, sailed past them. Windows shattered, car alarms blared, and people scattered like sheep as they ran from the chaos. Logan cradled Virgil’s head against their chest. Glass rained down from the building above them. As Logan pressed their nose into Virgil’s hair, their chest lit on fire. They wondered if the glass somehow penetrated their coat and cut them.

The sound disappeared as soon as it came, but the echoes of its presence screamed into the night.

“What was that?” Logan asked.

“Nothing good,” Virgil replied. He pulled Logan’s arm. “We have to get home before something worse happens.”

Logan nodded their head in agreement. The two hustled away from the theater, away from the noise and toward their sanctuary. Logan could hear the rapid breathing from Virgil. No doubt he was starving off his panic. Logan filed a mental note to make Virgil wrap himself in as many blankets as they could find when they arrived home.

Logan stole a glance over their shoulder. Police sirens drowned out the screams of abandoned cars. People started running toward the source of the noise instead of away from it. Logan considered staying behind to help, but the better part of them knew that was a horrible idea. Logan and Virgil were non-combative mutations, and therefore they would be useless in this situation anyway. The best they could do was let the professionals handle the situation. Besides, whatever that sound was, it wasn’t friendly. It could be looking for them. Logan swallowed and returned their attention back to the sidewalk.

Hopefully, whatever that was would leave them in peace.

–

 _S̸ùbje̴ct # ̀88͢8͜88888͢889_  
De̕fec͞t̕: ̵S͠s͘ss͞ss̕S͟S̸SSsm͡anp̨pp͏pp͜p̶lstiiiin  
͞Şe͢x͘:́ ͞ḾM̀FFFMM̵M͢le  
͘A͢g̛gg͡ge̵: ͡33͝3͜3333͘3͠3̷333͟33͝3̢33̶33̛3  
̶Tss̕e̸sţ #͘: 5̨53343͜22

 _̶No̴óoo͞O͏OO͟Ooo҉0͘00oo͜o̶o҉t̷e000̨:͏_  
S̛͘u̢ú͠u̶͟bs̴̡u̴͜u̧u̡͞b̀͡s̸͜ù̡͢ù͘u̴͝҉b̵͢͞s̷u̵u҉̡̢b b҉e͢͟e̷̶n͝͏ ͡in̵je͘͞ct̴͝e̴̡d́͞ w̡͜ẃw͏w͠͡ẃ̡w̸͜w̶̵w͟w̶͜ww̸͜ẃ̶ ̀͡ư͜͠ń̵̷i̸̡d́͡͝e͏n͡҉t̡͞i͟͡fí̷é̴̵d ff͞f͞f͟f̧̀f͜͟ff̷a̶̢mi҉͜l̛l҉̢ll͢ uu̧u̧͜͝n̷̷̴n҉̶͘n̵dḑ͞idd͞i͟͡di͟id́id̷͞ ̨͡s͟o͘u̡nd̷̡ ̵̢͡b̀̕͞b̕҉̡bl̶͡a̷͘s͏̧s̢̛͜s̨ ̨͡uu̴̡̕ú̧͟n͢d͠e̷͡r͏̴͏ś͢s̢͞şt̷a͞a͜a̢a̡a̵̷à  
̷  
T̡͘t̛̀w̶̴͜ę̡̡҉e̵ę̴͡҉s҉̛͠͠e҉͠à͘͠ẁ̵̧͢c̡̕s̡͢͟͠s̀̀͢s͜͡͠t̸̸:̕҉ ̀͢F̸̀͘͢͠F̨͟͜F̸̧͢F̢͟͡͡F̢̀F̶̷̷̶̡F҉̨F̶҉F̡F̨͝F̴̡̛͠F͏̸̸F͏̡͡F͏F̡҉́F͝͏҉F̶̶͟F̶̶̡͘F́̕͞F̛̕F̢̀F̴̀̕F̵̸҉

_…_

_The file has been corrupted. Delete?_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_ERROR: S̴̀͘̕͝u̵͠҉b̶́͟͡j̀͏̕̕ę̴̡̕c̶̶̢͞͡t͝͡҉ ̧̕͝͞#̶͡ ̸̵̶8҉̶̵́͡9 has already been deleted._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Roman wanted to do after the show was eat one of Patton’s famous thumbprint cookies and socialize with the theater cast. He didn’t plan on fighting for his life. He also didn’t plan on revealing one of his darkest secrets.  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: blood, mild violence, death implications, crying, self-depreciating language, and angst a plenty  
> Word Count: 4183

_Subject # 240_  
Defect: Memory manipulation  
Sex: Male  
Age: 14  
Test #: 1̸҉̵0̵͜͡͏2̶̨3̶͝҉͟4̧̨̕͞2̸͘͠3̸̛͞

_Notes:  
S̕͏şs͞s͏͘u̷̢͡b͡͞j̡͘͞e̕͠c̛͜t̀̕ ͘t̨͢o ̕T̷͞Ę̡ŖM͞IN͝A͡T̴͏E̵̶͘ ss̶̕d̕͡ea̷̕͝r͠҉f҉w̸͡f̷̵͞f͟w҉v̴͜m̧̛͢o̧͘n̨ ҉͏̵S̀ub̸͜je̢c̷̷͞t ̧̛͠8̡9̸̢ ̛͜sea͢v̛é̶e̵̢e͜͝e̢e͜e̶͝ee̸͡e̕͟n̨s̀҉t̸t̶̨͠ę͠͏e̢͏e͏e͘n̢͟ą͢͡ ̶́͘s͏ş̧͢d̸dd̶̢̨d̕dd͢͠ḑa̵̵ ͟wơ͠͝v̨ņaw̶̵͝e̷͘t͘h͝_

_Test: P̶̛͏̷A̵̵͜҉S̷̕A̴͢À̛҉́A̵͘A̷̕S͘S҉̸S̷̸̨̛͞S̢͞Ś̀͘͞Ś͝S̴͘͜S̀͘̕͠͞A̛̕͡A̕A̸̶͟A̷̡̨͝Á̡̢̛D͝_

_…_

_The file has been corrupted. Delete?_

_…_

_…_

_It is possible the file can be repaired. Would you like to repair it?_

_…_

_The file has been requested for repair._

\--

Patton bounced on his toes as he waited for Roman to exit the theater. People pushed past him, some greeted him out of courtesy, and others came to talk to him. Patton politely talked to all of them. He kept scanning the crowd for-

There! Patton darted forward and excused himself. His target locked in sight. He leaped.

“You did great!” he chirped.

Roman turned just in time to catch him. He swung Patton around in a circle and cradled him close to his chest.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Roman said into Patton’s hair. He stroked a hand through Patton’s golden waves and sighed in his scent of fresh baked cookies. “Turns out I had nothing to worry about at all.”

“Of course not,” Patton replied. He looked up into Roman’s eyes and stroked a hand over his hair. “You always do well. You’re a great actor, Roman.”

Roman smiled and nodded. “And thank you for your words of wisdom. I really needed it.”

Patton combed his memory for anything useful he could’ve said earlier. He cursed his memory. Seemed like he forgot even the simplest of things. Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulder and lead him toward the front door.

“I’m going out with the others later to celebrate, but I wouldn’t mind a cookie first,” he informed him.

“How did you know I was baking?”

“Please, Patton, you always bake cookies for me right before a performance. And I can smell the flour in your hair. You thought you threw me off with the foundation reply, didn’t you? You think I didn’t notice because you washed your face?”

“Uh,” Patton furrowed his brow. What was Roman talking about? He wrinkled his brow and watched the path ahead of them.

Roman’s smile slipped away, “What’s troubling you, my prince?”

Patton’s shoulders bounced as he chuckled. “I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Playing dumb, I see,” Roman replied with a hearty laugh of his own. “Okay, have it your way. But, I still want that cookie before I leave.”

“One thumbprint cookie with Crofters in it coming right up!”

“You spoil me so,” Roman leaned over and placed a kiss in Patton’s hair, earning a cascade of giggles from Patton.

As Patton looked up, he spotted fading gray hair tied in a messy bun, glowing half moon glasses, and a frown that could make any child miserable. He caught her eye, and his heart sank.

“Oh,” he didn’t realize he verbalized.

“What’s wrong?” Roman asked.

“It’s… that’s Judy Spencer, the teacher that works next to me.”

Roman followed Patton’s line of sight and hummed. “You mean Marilyn Monwoe over there?”

Patton nodded. Mrs. Spencer walked over to them, and Patton put on his professional smile once again.

“Well hey there, Judy. I didn’t know you liked theater,” Patton chirped.

Mrs. Spencer sucked in a breath and put a hand on her chest. “I never pass up a chance to see a Shakespeare play live.”

Patton bit back a not so nice comment about her age in his head.

Roman cleared his throat. “I do so hope you enjoyed the show.”

“I did,” she replied and stared right into Roman’s soul. He shivered. “You are a good actor, young man.”

Patton’s jaw dropped, and Roman preened at the compliment. Mrs. Spencer moved her wrinkles to allow a sliver of a smile on her blood red lips. She grabbed Roman’s arm and pulled him close to her.

“Be careful,” she whispered into his ear, “Someone’s been looking for you, and they’re not friendly. If I were you, I’d take you and Patton as far away from the city as I could.”

Roman furrowed his brow. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but the woman took off in a different direction, barreling through people and even knocking someone over.

“What was that about?” Patton asked.

Roman blinked. “I’m… not really sure. Let’s head home before it’s too late. I can hear those cookies calling my name.”

Patton glanced one last time back at Mrs. Spencer then followed Roman’s lead. The two exited the theater and started down the street for the crosswalk. Of course, their home was just on the other side of the street, but Patton insisted they always be safe.

As they waited amongst other people in the crosswalk, Roman noticed a man in a long navy trenchcoat and wide brimmed hat staring at him intently. He wondered if they were starstruck from the show. Roman cleared his throat and was just about to address the man, but the light for the crosswalk changed, and people bustled past him to cross the street.

Still, the man stayed behind and continued to stare at Roman. Goosebumps rose on Roman’s skin. He pulled Patton a little closer to him. He would be unlucky enough to be stalked by a crazy fan. The warning from Mrs. Spencer echoed in his head. This must’ve been the person she warned him about.

He looked across the street and tried to forget the man behind them. Perhaps they were blind and weren’t actually staring. Perhaps they thought they recognized Roman somewhere and were too shy to ask. Perhaps they didn’t just come from the play and they were wondering why someone from the sixteenth century was walking around.

Perhaps Roman should consider investing in a bodyguard since there were people on the other side of the street staring them down as well.

“Ro, you okay? You feel tense,” Patton mumbled at his side. Roman didn’t answer him. Patton bit his lip before he coaxed again, “Ro?”

Roman stopped dead in his tracks, right in the middle of the crosswalk. Patton gasped as Roman kept him locked at his side. Waves of worry, anger, and concern washed over Patton as he put a trembling hand to Roman’s back. He swallowed the nerves down his throat.

Roman pulled Patton to the other side of the street without warning, away from the prying eyes of the people on the other side. He quickened his pace. Patton nearly stumbled, but Roman kept his body upright.

“Roman, what’s going on?” Patton asked.

Roman glared at the people across the street. Their eyes continued to follow. As soon as Roman was on the other side of the street, he took off running. Patton cried out and asked him to stop, but Roman continued forward. He couldn’t explain why, but they had to run.

As he predicted, the people watching them pursued. Of course, he’d be the one to pick up a group who thought he’d be worth kidnapping. His mother would be thrilled to get that note. Roman darted down an alleyway and pressed his back into the bricks. He covered Patton’s mouth and squashed him up against the bricks. Roman held his breath. The people pursuing them ran past. He let out a sigh of relief as footsteps disappeared down the street.

Patton pushed Roman’s hand away. “Princeton Roman Peters, you tell me what is going on right now!”

Roman let out a long sigh and shook his head. He replied, “I don’t know. All I know is those people were following us for some reason.”

Patton’s brows sailed to his forehead. He chewed on his lip before he asked, “Why would they follow us?”

“I don’t know that either. Let’s just head home before they find us again.”

“You think you had the slip on us?”

Patton backed into Roman as two women walked out of the shadows of the alleyway. One smiled too wide like they were trying to capture a skittish animal, while the other glared at them like they murdered her father.

The woman on the right talked into the communication device in her ear, “Subject #240 has been spotted. Requesting backup.”

Roman cleared his throat and laughed nervously, “Good evening, my fair ladies. I don’t think we’ve properly met.”

“We haven’t,” the woman on the left chirped, “and we don’t intend to waste our time to find out. We’re just here for him.”

Patton stiffened against Roman’s chest, and Roman pulled him closer.

“I’m afraid you’ve mistaken us for someone else,” Roman offered.

“There’s no mistake here, trust me,” the woman on the right sneered. “Logan, just come back with us and we promise we won’t hurt your friend.”

Logan. There was that name again. Patton found a bit of courage and clung to it. His jaw still shook as he spoke, “I’m not Logan Shea.”

“Who is Logan Shea?” Roman whispered under his breath.

The two women looked at each other. They turned their attention back to him and replied, “Sure you’re not.”

More footsteps approached the alley, and Roman jerked his head back. They were now surrounded on all sides, two people at the front and three at their back. He swallowed.

“Last chance, Logan,” the woman warned. “We’d rather no one died tonight if we can help it.”

Guns clicked behind Roman’s head. He tried to swallow his dry throat. Patton’s body began to tremble against his chest and shook a primal feeling in Roman’s gut. The moment a hand settled on Roman’s shoulder, Roman twisted and slammed his palm into the man’s nose. The man cried out and retreated.

Two more rushed forward to grab him. Roman kneed one in the stomach, but the other tackled him. He tumbled onto the ground. The man pulled something from their side. The glisten of a needle flashed in the lamplight. Roman stopped the man’s arm before the needle crashed into his neck. His arms shook as he held his attacker back. Sweat stung his eyes, and he clenched them closed.

The weight lifted along with a heavy grunt. Roman opened his eyes. Patton had pounced on the man. The needle jabbed itself into the attacker’s shoulder, and Roman could see the light already disappearing from the stranger’s eyes.

God, that could’ve been him.

Patton backed up and realized what occurred. Roman already saw Patton’s mind spiraling down. He couldn’t afford Patton to lose focus. Roman staggered to his feet.

“Patton-” His body slammed up against the brick wall. The taste of iron gushed down his throat. Roman’s head pounded.

“Roman!”

He turned as one woman grabbed Patton’s arms and pinned them behind his back. The other grabbed a pair of silver cuffs from their waistband and handed them to her partner. She managed to click one to Patton’s wrist. Roman stepped forward to help, but he lost his balance and collapsed onto his hands and knees. Patton thrashed about in the woman’s arms. She pinned him down on his stomach beneath her.

“Stop struggling! This will be over soon.”

“Leave him alone,” Roman’s voice rasped. The taste of his bloody nose stained his tongue. The two women paid him no mind.

Roman watched the second woman uncap a needle similar to the other one his previous attacker pulled, but this one held a red liquid. The lamplight lit the fear in Patton’s eyes. Roman’s chest constricted. His throat burned. His stomach held the fire of a mighty beast.

“I said. Leave. Him. ALONE!” he shrieked.

The ground shook. A strong force blasted both women into the silver truck behind them. The truck dented and barrel rolled halfway into the street. Glass shattered, cars flipped, the lamppost groaned and fell to its side, extinguishing the only source of light in the dark alley. Multiple car alarms blared. The sound of broken glass rained in the distance.

Roman’s body trembled as he stood. He staggered over to Patton, who still laid on his stomach and panted into the ground. Roman flinched as Patton’s eyes stared at him. That was a fear he never wanted Patton to look at him with.

“What,” Patton panted.

Roman helped Patton to his feet. His eyes and throat stung, and he avoided looking at Patton as he pulled his friend forward.

“Roman, what was that?”

Roman refused to answer. He continued forward. They had to escape the area before someone else found them. He couldn’t risk losing Patton. He had to return them to the safety of their home. Despite Patton’s protests, Roman lead them to the other side of the street. As they rounded the corner, Patton pulled Roman to a stop.

“Roman, please,” Patton’s voice was gentle. “I just want to understand. What  _was_ that?”

Roman’s eyes pleaded with Patton to drop the subject. They glistened with fresh tears, both from fear and the pain radiating in his head. Patton swallowed his questions back into his throat. Sirens wailed in the distance and sped up in their direction. Roman gave one more desperate tug on Patton’s sleeve, urging- begging him to find shelter.

“Okay,” Patton whispered. “Okay. Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”

Roman could’ve cried from relief. He pulled them down the narrow street, avoiding people who were rushing past trying to escape, and toward their apartment. He noticed the windows on the stain glass door to their apartment building littered the sidewalk. What a shame. He loved that picture.

The elevator ride to the top floor was painfully slow. Roman kept glancing over at Patton, who hadn’t said a word since they entered. What was running through his mind? Was he afraid of Roman now? Would he leave? Would he understand?

The elevator dinged, and Roman rushed into the hall. His fingers trembled as he dug around in his pocket for his key. The hall light showed the damage on his white shirt, now more like a crimson shirt from all the blood dripping down his face. He gripped the key and pushed it in the lock. His bloodied hand slipped on the knob, but after wiping it on his pants, he pushed inside.

The apartment’s light flickered to life. The curtains against the back wall blew in the breeze, the glass granting them shelter now gone. Roman let out a heavy sigh. His nose stung, and honestly, he just wanted to lay down right now.

Patton pulled his cardigan off and hung it on the coat rack. He didn’t turn to look at Roman afterward. A pain pinched in Roman’s heart stronger than his probably broken nose. He blinked back tears and raced toward his room.

The door closed Patton off from him.

In all honesty, Roman probably slammed it harder than necessary. He collapsed onto his bed, and the dam in his eyes finally broke. His sobs worsened the pain in his head and nose. He would probably have to throw his sheets away after this. No amount of scrubbing would get rid of all this blood. Frankly, he should’ve gone to the hospital, but he couldn’t care less if he was alive or dead at this point.

Patton  _knew_.

Roman tried so hard to pretend his mutation was nothing more than soothing people with his voice. He pretended his siren song could only put people to sleep. He pretended his comforting words held no malice behind them. He pretended he was the knight Patton needed.

Three gentle knocks sounded at his door. Roman chewed down so hard on his lips he swore he drew blood. A sharp gasp crushed his nose, and Roman covered his mouth to stop from screaming.

He destroyed enough tonight.

“Roman?” Patton’s voice could melt butter. “Roman, can I please come in?” He paused. “Can you talk to me?”

Roman shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He wished he could bury his face into his pillow.

The door handle turned, but Patton didn’t enter. Roman swallowed hard.

“Roman, if I can come in, knock twice.”

Roman hesitated. Did he dare open it? Patton would want answers, but Roman had none to give. He was cursed with great power, and he squandered his chance to use it responsibly.  

“Roman, please don’t shut me out. I just want to help you.”

But what did he do to deserve help, especially from such a kind and patient person? Roman gnawed on his lip. He took in a deep breath, and against his better judgment, he got off the bed. Roman pressed a hand to the door. His fist shook as it formed.

Knock.

He paused.

Knock.

The door handle twisted the rest of the way, and Patton cracked the door open. Roman stepped back. The door creaked as it allowed the cool air of the outside in, and Patton’s eyes stared down at the floor. His fingers rubbed the bracelet around his wrist. When he looked up, Roman noted the tears in Patton’s eyes as well. A lump gripped Roman’s throat. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make Patton cry.

He wanted to hold Patton in his arms and run his hand through Patton’s golden hair. He wanted to brush away each and every tear. He wanted to sing Patton a lullaby and make him forget this ever happened. However, his feet refused to move.

“ _Hi_ ,” Patton signed, and his lips pulled into a weak smile.

Roman could barely squeeze his fingers together to pull off the sign, “ _Hi_.”

“ _You okay?_ ” Patton gestured. His head tilted to the side.

“ _I’m overwhelmed_.” Roman slid his hands over his neck. He blew heavily through his lips.

Patton nodded his head and sighed through his nose. He took a step forward and caressed Roman’s cheek with his hand. Roman pressed his head into it, and he brought his hand up to encase Patton’s own. Roman rubbed Patton’s hand down his cheek. He placed a gentle yet bloodstained kiss to Patton’s palm. 

Patton whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”

Roman let out a breathy laugh. How could Patton still think everything was going to be okay after this? Roman shook his head.

“ _If you want to leave, I understand_ ,” Roman signed.

“ _Leave?_ ” Patton furrowed his brow. “ _Roman, what made you think I’d want to leave?”_

Roman signed so fast, Patton missed half of it. He caught that Roman was worried Patton would leave and that he’d be afraid of Roman. Patton watched Roman’s hands move before he picked up again that Roman wanted him to stay.

“ _I’m not going anywhere,_ ” Patton assured him. Roman paused mid sign. He blinked owlish eyes, and Patton repeated his sentence. Roman held both his lips between his teeth.

“ _Why?_ ” Roman had the nerve to gesture.

Patton sighed through his nose. “ _Because you're my best friend._ ”

Roman would've snorted. “ _Please, Patton I'm far from the best right now._ ”

Patton rolled his eyes and guided Roman back to his bed. He pushed Roman to sit on his bed and placed both his hands on Roman’s burning cheeks. He brushed escaped strands of Roman’s curly brown hair out of his face, and Roman stopped Patton's hands from traveling farther.

“Don’t,” Roman whispered. He tried to push Patton’s hands away, but Patton held firm.

“Let me help you, Roman,” Patton whispered back. “It won’t hurt me for long.”

Roman glared at Patton, though in his state, he knew he looked rather pathetic. He lowered his head and stared at Patton’s feet.

“Fine,” Roman whispered.

Patton drew in a sharp breath. His hands slid from Roman’s cheeks to Roman’s temples. The thumbs on Patton’s fingers kissed his skin, and Roman exhaled. The headache dulled. Patton clenched his teeth as his hand slipped down Roman’s face and over his nose. He inhaled a sharp gasp as Roman’s nose snapped back into place. Roman flinched as well. His nose pinched for a moment, but it disappeared soon after.

Patton staggered backward. He pressed his hands to his own temple and massaged them. Roman noticed a drop of blood slithering from Patton’s nose. He rose to his feet and pulled Patton close to his chest. Soft sobs threatened to spill, but he focused all his energy into stroking the back of Patton’s head.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he whispered. He placed a kiss on Patton’s hair.

With Patton’s permission, Roman lead the two of them onto the bed. Roman cradled Patton’s head on his chest. Patton’s side pressed up against him, and their legs tangled together. A soft lullaby murmured from Roman’s lips. Patton had fallen asleep ages ago, but Roman couldn’t bring himself to stop. He continued to stroke his hand through Patton’s hair.

Already, the bleeding from Patton’s nose stopped. Roman sighed in relief. He wasn’t sure which gift of Patton’s he marveled at more, but the unnaturally fast healing was one Roman both loved and feared. Loved, because that meant Patton wouldn’t hurt as much. Feared, because Patton was selfless enough to take on all the world’s struggles and not bat an eyelash.

No wonder his mothers hid him away from the world.

The events from before haunted Roman’s mind. Mrs. Spencer knew they were being watched. How had she discovered someone was out to hurt them? And who was Logan Shea? How did Patton know him, and why was he being confused for him?  Would these people come back? Would they try to take Patton again? Roman would rather die before he let someone take Patton from him.

A moan escaped Patton’s nose. Roman realized he squeezed Patton too tight and slacked his grip. Patton settled against him once more, and Roman relaxed his head into the pillow.

Whoever those people were, they knew where to find Patton. They knew he was at the theater. How long were they watching? How much did they know? Roman didn’t feel safe in their apartment anymore. Perhaps they could lay low with his mother for a few days. His mother always opened her home to Roman when he needed it.

Besides, his mother had never met Patton, and she’d been asking for almost a year and a half to meet him. Roman wanted to make sure his relationship with Patton was established before he brought home a boy for a family barbeque. Not that his mother would mind whether Patton and he were in love or not, but the rest of the family would. Patton already had so many negative thoughts about his identity, and Roman didn’t need his homophobic family throwing more insults at him.

Even if his mother would go against her religion and punch his uncle in the face for calling her son a slur.

It was decided. Roman would ask Patton to pack up and vacation with him with his mother for a few days… or maybe a few months. They couldn't risk staying here with those people watching them. With a heavy heart, he nudged the sleeping bundle in his arms.

“Patton, my love, it’s time to wake up,” he whispered.

Patton groaned and buried his head in the crook of Roman’s neck. “Five more minutes?”

“No,” Roman laughed. “I need to speak with you.”

“‘Bout what?”

“I’d like to go on a short vacation and visit my mother, and I want you to come along.”

Patton’s eyes opened at that, and he blinked up at Roman. Those bright blue eyes hadn’t lost their luster. Roman quirked his lip into a smile.

“Kay,” Patton replied and put his head back against Roman’s chest. “We can go Saturday morning.”

“I’m afraid we should leave sooner than later,” Roman informed. “I already called her and said we’d be there in the morning.”

“But I have school tomorrow,” Patton whined.

Roman clicked his tongue. “Oh, I forgot about that. I’ll call you in sick because I know how much of a terrible liar you are.”

“Yeah,” Patton hummed. “You sure we can’t wait until Saturday?”

“My mother is already expecting us, and I don’t want her to worry because we’re not coming all the sudden. She’s got a weak enough heart as it is.”

“Oh,” Patton yawned. “Well, in that case, I’ll pack a few things.”

The warmth on Roman’s side left, and Roman felt the chill of his lie rise up his spine. He would text his mother in a few minutes and tell her they would be arriving in the morning. He glanced at his clock. If they hurried, they could show up at his mother’s house within the next five hours, depending on traffic.

Roman piled a few shirts into his suitcase. His mind kept repeating the fight over and over in his head. Was there something he could’ve done differently? The fearful face of Patton, eyes bright with tears and jaw slacked, burned into his memory. He closed his eyes and pinched his nose.

He’d give anything to forget what he’d done.

\--

 _Event # 563_  
Subject identification: #240  
Sex: Male  
Age: 6

_Notes:  
Subject to be added to the Genetic Enhancement Lab Studies along with S̴̀͘̕͝u̵͠҉b̶́͟͡j̀͏̕̕ę̴̡̕c̶̶̢͞͡t͝͡҉ ̧̕͝͞#̶͡ ̸̵̶8҉̶̵́͡9 in hopes that Subject can be enhanced to permanently delete memories instead of altering them._

_Actions:  
Request for Subject #240 to be prepped for studies._

_Status: COMPLETE_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being away from home for six months, Virgil finally gets his chance to return to his roots. His old life welcomes him back with open arms, and Logan starts to finally feel what it’s like to have a family.  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: heavy food mention (you can skip the middle section if it bothers you), a death mention, but other than that, this chapter’s very chill :D  
> Word Count: 5307

_Event # 638_  
Subject identification: #240  
Sex: Male  
Age: 7

_Notes:  
Subject has become sluggish and uncaring. Psychological studies suggest a state of loneliness or developing depression due to isolation._

_Actions:  
Request for Subject #240 to interact with another Subject his age._

_Status: C̵̸̴͘O̡҉͏͟M̴̢҉͝P̸͜L̴҉Ȩ̷̴̡̛T̸́̕͟É̷̶_

\--

“Virgil.  _Virgil_. Virgil, please wake up.”

Virgil groaned and rubbed his face into his pillow. He blinked up at the person leaning over his bed, and Logan’s concerned blue eyes stared into his. Virgil snapped his eyes open.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Logan nudged their head to the left. “Your phone has been moving on its own all morning, and I’m concerned it will explode soon.”

“What?” Virgil tried to sit up. Hobo’s heavy weight kept him still, and the cat whined as Virgil picked up the tortoiseshell colored cat and set it gently on the bed. His phone sat on the box next to him and started to vibrate again.

Virgil picked it up and stared at the screen. Why would his dad be calling him? He pressed the answer button and held it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“ _Virgil_!” his father’s voice shouted as he spoke in Korean. Virgil flinched. “ _We’ve been so worried! Are you both okay? Did anything happen? Where are you two right now?_ ”

“ _Calm down, dad_ ,” Virgil replied. His eyes flickered up to Logan, who became preoccupied with petting Hobo.

Virgil’s dad took a deep breath in and exhaled. “ _I saw the news and I got worried._ ”

“ _What was on the news?_ ” Static answered him. “ _Dad?_ ”

“ _There was some sort of explosion down by the Tower Theater last night. Two people were found dead, and three are in critical condition. I just wanted to make sure you two were okay_.”

So that’s what that was last night. Virgil breathed deeply through his nose.

“ _We’re fine_ ,” Virgil answered. “ _We were there, but I guess we were far enough from the explosion to be okay_.”

A heavy sigh of relief preceded his dad’s words. “ _I’m glad to hear you’re both safe. Oh! And Flora says she’s excited you’re coming tonight_.”

Virgil’s stomach sank. After last night, he wanted to keep Logan and himself hidden for a few days. No doubt after last night people would be combing the area even harder for them. However, the last thing he wanted to do was let his little sister down. He’d put her through enough already. Virgil sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“ _Virgil, if you don’t feel safe coming, I can tell Flora something came up._ ”

“ _No. I… We’ll be there. We’ll be there as soon as we can_.”

“ _If you’re sure. Be safe, son. I love you.”_

 _“I’ll try. I love you too_.”

The call ended. Virgil slumped back in his bed and blew a heavy sigh through his lips.

“What was that all about?” Logan asked. Hobo had curled up in their lap and purred against their left arm.

Virgil ran his hands through his hair. “You know that explosion? Dad said people were killed. God, Logan, that street was on our way home. That could’ve been us.”

Logan watched a distant haze settle over Virgil's eyes. They shifted Hobo off of their lap and slowly approached Virgil.

“We are okay, Virgil. You and I are both here, and nothing happened.”

“Still,” Virgil grumbled. He sighed and turned his head. Logan’s eyes studied him, and Virgil took a deep breath in. “I just… we’re going to run out of luck eventually, aren’t we?”

“I warned you the chances of a successful escape were slim to none,” Logan replied. They recalled other experiments that tried to escape the facility. It never ended well. They watched a sour expression cross Virgil’s face. A feeling of guilt surged in their stomach. They continued, “However, I am thankful you took the chance.”

Virgil's head drifted over to look at Logan. “You-”

“I realize I have behaved less than grateful as of late. My lack of wanting to stay here with you has nothing with me wanting to return to the facility. I merely wish to protect you.”

A bitter laugh escaped Virgil’s nose. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to be protected.”

“You should have thought of that before you abducted me.”

“Well don’t make me sound like a kidnapper.”

“I am far from a kid, Virgil.”

Virgil burst into laughter, and its contagiousness spread to Logan’s own chest. They laughed through their nose and watched Hobo stretch out on the floor. Virgil’s laughter died down, and he sighed heavily. His smile softened.

“My family still wants us to come. Flora’s really excited.”

“I’m also interested in learning who your family is,” Logan folded their arms, “since you don’t like to discuss them.”

“Hey, you could read my mind and find out who they were anytime you wanted to.” Virgil tapped his head.

Logan’s cheeks flushed. “That is an invasion of privacy that I would never subject you to.”

“I know,” Virgil replied. He stretched his legs out in front of him. The two of them sat in a comfortable silence. The sunlight glistened through the window pains, allowing the rainbow colors to wash over their faces.

“When would you like us to arrive?” Logan asked.

“Well, they only live on the outskirts of the city. If we leave now, we could probably walk there and show up in about three hours.”

Logan’s legs groaned in protest. They sighed through their nose and shook their head.

“Can we not take a motor vehicle such as a taxi?”

“We could, but being with a person that long could give them enough time to figure out who we are and where we are, and I’m not about to risk that.”

Logan nodded their head. “I hadn’t thought of that. If it will take us that long, I suggest we get going as soon as possible. How long do we intend to stay?”

“Maybe the night. Flora should be at school, so she’s going to want us to stay for a while, and I don’t want to walk home in the dark.

“Agreed,” Logan nodded their head. They stood up and stretched. The joints in their back popped, and Hobo flinched on the floor. Virgil gathered his thunderstorm backpack and slid it over his shoulders. Logan chose to put their hat, scarf and long jacket back on.

“You stay here and be good. I don’t need you being hit by any cars, got it?” Virgil spoke.

Hobo stared up at him and blinked, for Hobo was a cat and could not answer.

Logan chuckled. Virgil always insisted on talking to the cat even though it couldn’t respond. What a strange quirk. Were other people that humanistic with animals?

The two checked to see if anyone was watching and exited their sanctuary. The autumn sun barely warmed the chilly air. Leaves skittered in the streets. People walked in bright scarves and colorful jackets, coffee in hand, and idly chatting with friends. The normal noises of the city swallowed up idle chatter.

As they entered the outskirts of the city, less and less people passed them. The streets turned into a long highway with impatient cars on either side. They continued down the busy highway for about a half hour before they came across the first suburb on the outskirts of the city.

Virgil navigated the streets by heart. He forgot how many times he raced down them to get home as fast as possible. A few neighbors greeted him as they raked leaves on their lawns or finished planting their mums. None of them cared he had a stranger with him. They were more interested in seeing an old friend, and Virgil appreciated that. It was a nice change of pace.

His street rounded the corner, and Virgil spied the familiar white walled house he once called home. For once in the past six months, a wave of relief and safety encased Virgil’s senses. His shoulders slacked, and his eyes even threatened to tear up.

Logan glanced over at their friend and then quirked a brow. They asked, “Are you hurt?”

“What?” Virgil blinked up at them. He dried the tears from his eyes. “Oh, no, I’m fine. Just got kinda… my house is right over there.”

“Ah,” Logan replied. They glanced at the house. A tree in the front yard gifted a few of its leaves all over the grass, some yellow, some orange, and some a vague shade of green. Also all over the yard were bright pink flamingos, and Logan wondered why they had so many tropical birds on the front lawn. The white sidewalk led from the street to the front door. A red porch swing blew in the breeze. Faded red shutters hugged the windows, and the gray shingled roof looked like it needed a patch job a few months ago.

“It looks,” Logan searched their mind for the word, “lit.”

Virgil snorted through his nose. Close enough.

The two followed the sidewalk path to the house. Virgil pulled his bag off his shoulders and fished out a key. Its weight warmed in Virgil’s hand. He slid it into the lock and opened the door. The wooden door welcomed him inside, and Virgil breathed in the scent of crisp apple pie and autumn leaves.

“Mom, dad, and pop are probably at work yet. Pop should be home first, then mom. Dad usually likes to finish his work before he comes home, so I don’t know when that’ll be,” Virgil’s voice trailed off as he watched Logan look around the house. “You okay?”

Logan examined everything, from the warm cream colored walls to the red couches in the middle. Pictures decorated everything from the walls to shelves. They noted they’d have to take the opportunity to examine all of them at some point. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the windows all had a white curtain separating the glass from the inside. On the far side of the wall facing the door sat a large statue of a man sitting cross legged on a wooden cabinet. A feeling of peace pressed into Logan’s chest. It was as if they were protected from negative energy as soon as they entered the door.

The living room gave way to the dining room, which had a fan above a beautiful hand carved wooden table, the legs resembling the trunk of a tree. An electronic waterfall sat in the corner and trickled down stone rocks. Logan was sure they saw fluorescent lights leading up to a fairy statue at the top as if it were flying.

“It’s beautiful,” Logan mumbled. In all honesty, it was indescribable. Was this what the average home looked like? Why would Virgil want to leave this for mold, dust, and other unpleasant things that littered their sanctuary?

“I’ll let pop know you said that. He’s an interior decorator.”

“Fascinating,” Logan mumbled. They watched Virgil take his shoes off and place them under the coat rack. Logan mimicked him and placed theirs to the right of Virgil’s shoes.

“Hey, you want any tea or coffee or anything?” Virgil asked.

Logan’s cheeks heated up. “I… have not had either of those things.”

“Seriously?” Virgil caught himself and cleared his throat, “Well, how about some green tea then?”

“Does the color change the flavor?”

“No,” Virgil laughed and shook his head, “but it definitely tastes like green.”

“Green has a taste?” Logan mumbled to themself. They watched Virgil disappear into the kitchen. They resisted the urge to follow. They were safe here. Nothing would happen if Virgil disappeared from their sight for a few moments.

Logan took this time to examine the pictures on the wall. The largest one by far was the picture with five people in it. A woman with bright gray eyes, the same gray eyes as Virgil, and bright red hair sat in the middle. Logan blinked. They felt as if they knew her, but they didn't know where. A tall dark skinned man with short curly hair had a hand on her right shoulder, and a shorter man with short black hair and dark eyes stood to her right. On her left side under the taller man was Virgil, and on her lap sat a tanned girl with wild curly hair pulled into two pigtails on her head and a smile that lit up the whole picture. Logan hummed. That must be Flora.

Besides the family photo were two circle pictures sitting beside the large family one. The one on the left showcased all of Virgil’s school pictures from Kindergarten to his senior year. Logan watched the bright smiled young boy turn into a tired shell of what he once was, and their heart pinched. It appeared Virgil stopped smiling for photos in his sixth grade year. Logan wondered what could’ve happened to entice such a dramatic change.

The picture to the right of the family photo had a lot of empty spaces on it. In fact, the only space filled was the one at the very top titled “Kindergarten” and had a picture of young Flora smiling back. Logan wondered if her sixth grade picture would show less happiness in it as well.

Logan traveled down the wall and examined each and every picture. They saw photos of birthday parties, casual picnics, Virgil racing, dance recitals, and other family events. A few caught their eyes, such as Virgil standing on a red rubber path with a first place ribbon, and one where Virgil held a young baby in his arms.

A loud whistle sounded, and Logan’s nerves tingled. They hastened into the kitchen and froze. Virgil lifted a silver kettle over two mugs and poured hot water into each of them. Logan watched him steep two bags into the mugs and pick the mugs up by the handle. Virgil turned, and he and the tea both jumped into the air.

“Christ, Logan, you scared me,” Virgil panted.

“I’m sorry,” Logan spoke. “It was not my intention to startle you. I’ll announce my presence next time.”

“No, it’s fine. Just-” Virgil stopped his sentence. He passed Logan and set both mugs down on the dining room table. He sat on one of the chairs and stirred the tea with his spoon. “I can get some milk or sugar to put in your tea if you don’t like the flavor.”

Logan sat at the table and stared into their mug. The plain white mug housed tea that looked more yellow than green, and they wondered how the tea got its name. They picked the bag out of the tea. A quick glance at Virgil noted his bag still sat in his cup, and Logan put their bag back inside. The mug warmed their cool fingertips, and they raised the ceramic to their mouth. The sweet liquid warmed them inside and out, and they put the mug back on the table with a clink.

“What do you think?” Virgil asked.

“It’s… sweeter than I imagined,” Logan replied. They blinked at their reflection in the mug.

Virgil smiled and brought his tea to his lips as well. He spoke, “Next time, I’ll introduce you to coffee.”

“Is this green tea something you used to consume on a daily basis?” Logan asked.

“Not really. I mean, I’ll sit down and have a cup with dad if we want to talk and stuff, but I’m more of a coffee drinker.”

“Does it taste better?”

“Eh, depends. I drink it more for the caffeine than anything. It keeps me going.”

Logan hummed. “I read once that extreme intakes of caffeine can lead to paranoia and strong anxiety.”

Virgil snorted. “Well, there’s my problem right there.”

“If that’s a problem, why do you drink it?”

“Honestly, I don't know. I guess it makes me feel like an adult or something like that.”

Logan furrowed their brow and tried to wrap their brain around the notion. They took another sip of their tea. Virgil by law was an adult, same as them. Why would he need to feel like one?

The front door opened, and Virgil perked up. Logan noticed the dark skinned man from the picture had entered their home, took his shoes off, and loosened his tie.

“Hey pop,” Virgil greeted.

The man jumped and turned back toward the dining room. A wide smile lit his face, and Virgil stood from his chair.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to come home,” his pop spoke. He held his arms out wide, and Virgil practically jumped into them. Logan watched the tender embrace for a moment. A feeling of intrusion flipped their stomach, and they focused on their tea instead. The man sucked in a deep breath and whispered, “It’s good to have you home, son.”

“Good to be home,” Virgil replied back.  They released each other, and Virgil noticed Logan’s discomfort. “Pop, this is Logan. They’re who, you know, I’ve been with for the past six months.”

“Oh really?” Virgil’s pop spoke. Logan stood from their chair and came to Virgil’s side.

Virgil continued, “Logan, this is my pop, Terrell.”

“Salutations,” Logan greeted.

“Nice to meet you,” Terrell spoke. He jutted his fist out, and Logan scampered back.

“Whoa, hey, Logan, it’s okay,” Virgil spoke as he grabbed onto Logan’s shoulders to keep them steady. “Pop wasn’t gonna hit you. It’s a fist bump. It’s like a high five, only with your knuckles.”

“Oh,” Logan deadpanned. They formed their hand into a fist and held it out. Terrell smiled and lightly placed his fist against Logan’s knuckles.

“It’s nice to meet you, Logan,” Terrell greeted. His eyes flickered to the table, and he clicked his tongue. “You’re having tea without me?”

“It’s cold outside,” Virgil mumbled.

“And you probably walked all the way here, you poor things,” Terrell spoke. He put his hands on his hips. “How about you two help me make some chocolate chip cookies?”

“Sounds fun,” Virgil replied with a quirked smile. He looked over toward Logan, who he was sure never saw an oven in their life. “It’ll be a nice learning experience.”

Logan noticed Virgil kept his gaze in their direction as he spoke, and they cleared their throat. “Ah, yes, I have never baked before.”

“Get out,” Terrell growled. Logan stiffened. Had they offended him already? Was Virgil’s family really that strict that if someone lacked experience-

“Pop, Logan, uh, takes a lot of things literally, so-”

“Oh! No, I didn’t mean for you to like, get out of the house or anything. I meant like… gee whiz or holy smokes or something like that.”

Virgil made an “ok” sign with his fingers. “Nailed it, pop.” He turned his attention over to Logan. “He can’t believe you never baked cookies before.”

“Is that a traditional custom?” Logan asked.

“Depends,” Virgil answered. He turned his attention to his pop. “What kind do you wanna make?”

“Chocolate chip feels like the one we should start with, you know since they were the first cookies I ever baked with you,” Terrell answered. Virgil’s face lit up, and Logan’s tried to hide the isolated pit in their stomach. “I’ll warm the butter if you want to get together some of the other ingredients.”

“Sounds fair,” Virgil spoke. “C’mon Logan, I’ll show you where everything is.”

Logan nodded their head and followed. The kitchen held multiple cabinets, and Logan wondered if there was some sort of system in place to figure out where each item belonged. They watched Virgil pull out a yellow bag with black circles inside. They resembled the top of the ice cream cone Logan devoured the other day. The words “semisweet chocolate chips” swirled on the front of the package

“Okay, so we need flour, salt, and baking soda for the first bowl,” Virgil read the directions aloud.

“There’s more than one bowl involved?”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to mix your wet and dry ingredients separate.”

“The segregation of the ingredients matters?”

Virgil snorted through his nose. “I guess so. I never dumped it all in one bowl to find out.”

Logan watched Virgil take out a specific cup for measuring and dumped a full cup into the bowl. He repeated it, and Logan coughed into their arm as the flour danced into their nose. They cleared their throat. Virgil handed Logan the cup.

“We need about three and a half more cups of flour, if you want to help,” Virgil informed. Logan stared down at the cup. Virgil gently wrapped his fingers around Logan’s wrist. “Here, I’ll help you.”

The two dipped the cup as one into the flower. Logan watched the white powder spill into the cup, and they lifted it up. With a knife, Virgil leveled the cup off. He led Logan’s hand over to the bowl and tipped it. The flower cascaded into the mixture.

“There,” Virgil spoke. “Now you try.”

Logan took a deep breath. They repeated the process as Virgil explained. A few careful eye flicks to Virgil’s face noted their positive progress. He dumped the measured amount into the bowl, and Virgil patted them on the back.

“Good job there, Specs. I’m going to get the baking soda and salt ready if you want to put in two and a half more cups.”

Logan nodded their head. They repeated the process as Virgil dunked some kind of spoon looking device into a box and sprinkled its contents over the flour. Once the two cups of flower entered the bowl, Logan recalled Virgil’s earlier direction. How did they measure out the exact volume of a half cup?

Their confusion must’ve read on their face because Virgil picked up another measuring cup and handed it to them. It was half the size of the previous one, and Logan read the ½ cup written on the handle.

“Oh,” they vocalized.

Once the dry ingredients were in one bowl, Virgil grabbed a device with multiple metal loops and started stirring the ingredients together. He explained it was called a whisk. After watching the tool circle around the bowl a few times, Logan turned their attention to Terrell, who had stuck four long rectangular blocks in a small windowed box. They crept over to his side.

Terrell noticed Logan appear next to him. He smiled before putting the power level on 50% and pushing 3 then 0 on the square buttons. After pushing “start,” a low hum spun the blocks around in a circle. Logan leaned down and examined the circular movement.

“What is that?” Logan questioned.

“It’s a microwave,” Terrell explained. “It’s warming up the butter.”

“You mean to tell me this tiny box produces microwaves that speed up the molecules in the food, therefore successfully warming the item in a short amount of time?”

“Yes?” Terrell spoke. He rose a brow over at Virgil, who hid his laughter behind his sweater paw.

“Fascinating,” Logan mumbled. A loud beep caused them to flinch. Terrell opened the door and pinched the sides of the yellow blocks. Satisfied with the stick’s amount of squish, he pulled them out and opened the packaging. Logan peeked over Terrell’s shoulder. Terrell scraped the four blocks into a large metal bowl.

“Virgil, would you hand me the box of brown sugar?” he asked. Virgil walked to the cabinet and pulled out the box. He wrinkled his nose as the bag slid out.

“It’s hard as a rock,” Virgil grumbled.

“Oh, just wet a paper towel and stick it in the microwave for about 15 seconds.”

“Kay.”

Virgil put the sugar into a bowl and did as instructed. Meanwhile, Terrell retrieved sugar from the cabinet and placed it on the counter.

“Logan, would you like to measure out a cup and a half cup of sugar?”

Logan nodded their head. They grabbed the cups they used for the flour earlier. The white sugar scratched his knuckles as they dunked the cup inside. He leveled it off and poured the cup into the bowl, then repeated the process with the half cup.

Virgil brought over the brown sugar. He waited until Logan finished with their work then sprinkled a bit of the brown sugar inside the measuring cup. He packed the sugar inside, and Logan panicked. Were they supposed to pack the white sugar in? Did they ruin the cookies? Virgil finished packing in the cup of sugar, and he tipped the cup. The sugar landed with a loud plop, and Terrell broke the sugar up again with his fingers.

“Brown sugar is fluffier than regular sugar, so if you want the right measurement, you gotta pack it down,” Virgil informed and chased Logan’s panic away.

“Logan, can you get me four eggs? They’re in a white styrofoam container,” Terrell instructed, “Oh, they’re in the fridge.”

Logan nodded their head. They walked to the fridge and opened the door. A cool chill rose the hair on their arms, and they searched the shelves until they spotted a white container as described. They pulled it out and brought it over to the counter.

“Thank you,” Terrell said with a smile. He placed the metal bowl on a machine with two four bladed blocks of metal. Virgil explained they were called beaters. Terrell turned a dial on the side, and the beaters buzzed to life. He stuck them inside the bowl. Logan’s eyes followed the swirl of the golden, creamy like substance before him.

Before he touched the eggs, Terrell pulled out a brown bottle. Logan read the name “vanilla” on it. Oh! That was the flavor of ice cream they consumed the other day. Terrell opened the cap, and Logan inhaled the sweet scent. Terrell filled the cap with the dark brown liquid and poured it in the mixture.

“Is that bottled ice cream?” Logan asked. “Why is it a different color?”

“It’s not,” Virgil explained. “It’s just kinda vanilla flavoring. Don’t drink it though. The smell is a lie.”

Logan hummed. He brushed the notion of a smell being able to lie away. Some phrases he’d never understand.

Terrell scraped the sides of the bowl with a spatula to get the splattered pieces of batter back into the mixture. He then picked out an egg and cracked it on the table. Logan watched Terrell use one hand to open the shell and pour the egg inside the bowl. Logan leaned over the counter and examined the yoke. Terrell repeated the process three more times until four eggs entered the bowl.

After the creamy liquid turned into more of a paste, Terrell asked Virgil to bring over the bowl of dry ingredients. Virgil poured it in one cup at a time, pausing each time to make sure it mixed well into the batter.  A white cloud of dust spread into the air each time, and Logan resisted the urge to cough.

After the batter mixed together for a while, Terrell turned the blades off. He lifted the machine up, and one by one, he scraped the excess batter stuck on the blades off and back into the bowl. He then took both blades out of the machine and handed one to Virgil and one to Logan.

Virgil rose the blade to his mouth and started licking off the batter left behind. Logan rose a brow. Didn’t the consumption of raw eggs cause harmful bacteria such as Salmonella to enter the body? Virgil glanced over at Logan, and he grinned.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to,” Virgil informed. “I mean, it’s not exactly quote on quote healthy, but I swear I’ve been eating this stuff since I was little, and I never died.”

Logan stared down at the light brown batter on the beater. They brought the batter to their lips. A quick lick and Logan’s tongue reeled at how sweet it was. It was even sweeter than the ice cream. They licked off another huge chunk and caught Virgil’s eye.

“You really never baked cookies before, did you?” Terrell marveled. His eyes held some sort of sympathy as he glanced over at Virgil.

“I have not,” Logan replied.

“Well, I’m gonna mix in the chocolate chips. If you two want to get out some plastic wrap to set on top and clear a spot in the fridge, I’d appreciate it.”

“Kay.” Virgil walked to the fridge and pushed around a few things until a large spot stood vacant. Logan furrowed their brow.

“I’m not sure we can bake cookies in the refrigerator.”

“We aren’t,” Virgil replied with a snort. “Pop likes to let the dough chill overnight. He said it makes a better tasting cookie or something like that.”

Logan hummed. Making cookies was more complicated than they expected.

Virgil walked over to a drawer and pulled out a long box. He grabbed a sheet of sticky transparent plastic and spread it over the bowl. Terrell smoothed it over the sides, lifted the bowl, and placed it inside the fridge.  He glanced up at the clock.

“Hey, Flora should be getting off the bus in about five minutes. You should surprise her and pick her up, Virgil.”

Virgil’s eyes lit up. He asked, “Is the stop down at the end of the street like it used to be?”

“Yep,” Terrell responded. Virgil bounced on his toes and walked over to the door. He looked over at Logan.

“Hey, you coming?” he asked.

Logan swallowed and shook their head. “I would prefer to stay indoors. You deserve a special moment of privacy with your sister.”

Virgil nodded his head and put his shoes on. “Okay, if you’re sure.” He said a quick goodbye before he zipped up his hoodie and stepped outside. The brisk autumn wind greeted him.

As he walked down the sidewalk, several other parents waited for their children. Some he recognized. He said hello to a few and played a game of solitaire on his phone as he waited. The bus’s engine roared down the street, and Virgil pocketed his phone. The bus’s breaks squealed to a stop, and children bounced off the steps as they joined their parent’s sides.

“Virgil!” Flora yelled. She squealed and jumped. Virgil caught her in his arms and lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his chest and squeezed her arms around his neck.

“I missed you,” He spoke. He hugged her waist and popped a kiss onto her cheek.

“I missed you too,” Flora replied. She pulled away from Virgil’s neck and smoothed his hair. “Your hair is purple.”

“Yeah, it’s purple. Do you like it?”

“No fair! I wanted rainbow hair, but mommy said no.”

“Maybe one day,” Virgil replied with a laugh. He walked down the street with Flora in his arms. “Hey, Flo, there’s someone I want you to meet when we get home.”

“Is it your boyfriend?”

Virgil quirked a brow. “What?”

“Mommy said you’re living with your boyfriend and that’s why you’re not home right now.”

“Oh,” Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, well, they’re not exactly my boyfriend. They’re just a really good friend.”

“Oh,” Flora replied. She buried her face against the crook of his neck and sighed a content hum.

“Flora, I need you to promise me something, okay?” Virgil swallowed. “My friend is really shy and doesn’t like people knowing who they are, so we’re gonna keep meeting them our little secret, okay? You can’t tell anyone.”

“Why?” Flora asked.

“Because it’s a secret.”

Flora looked into his eyes and pouted. Nonetheless, she nodded her head and said, “Okay, it’s our little secret.”

\--

 _Event # 773_  
Subject identification: #240  
Sex: Male  
Age: 12

_Notes:  
Subject has started to reveal less information about the memories scanned. Subject appears stubborn and occasionally refuses to reveal any information at all._

_Actions:  
Request for Subject #240 to be met with negative consequences after failing to comply._

_Status: COMPLETE_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan continues their day with Virgil’s family, but Flora brings up something that may change the entire game.  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: Maybe some spoilers if you’ve never seen Finding Dory, mentions of miscarriage, that’s about it  
> Word Count: 4866

_Subject # 240_  
_Defect: Memory manipulation_  
_Sex: Male_  
_Age: 11_  
_Test #: 1,923_

_Notes:  
Subject appears to be bonding with S̴̀͘̕͝u̵͠҉b̶́͟͡j̀͏̕̕ę̴̡̕c̶̶̢͞͡t͝͡҉ ̧̕͝͞#̶͡ ̸̵̶8҉̶̵́͡9 and refuses to do a memory scan on him, even with positive reinforcement._

_Test: FAILED_

\--

Virgil opened the front door with Flora still coiled around his body. He met his father’s eyes and kicked his shoes off.

“Pop, Virgil’s home!” Flora chirped.

“I know, baby girl,” Terrell spoke. He walked over and slipped Flora’s black shoes off of her feet. She wiggled her toes inside her socks. Terrell asked, “I guess I’m not getting a hello hug, am I?”

“Nope,” Flora replied and tightened her grip on Virgil’s neck.

“She’s mine now,” Virgil joked back.

Terrell put a hand to his chest and staggered back. “Betrayed by my own stepson. What a cruel world.”

Flora giggled, and Terrell leaned in to squish her cheeks and plant a kiss to her forehead with a dramatic kissing sound. Flora wiped it away with her sweater sleeve. She looked around her father and caught Logan’s eye.

For a moment, the two stared at each other.

Virgil turned his head and noticed Flora held Logan captive in her gaze. He cleared his throat and spoke, “Flora, this is my friend, Logan. They’re the one I told you about.”

Flora continued to stare. Logan watched dark brown eyes crawl over their skin, and they cleared their throat.

“Salutations, Flora,” Logan spoke.

Flora poked Virgil’s shoulder, and Virgil set her down. She strode across the carpet and stopped at Logan’s feet. Her eyes stared up at them, and they held their breath.

“Hi,” Flora spoke. She turned her head over her shoulder to Virgil and returned it to Logan.   
Virgil’s chest tightened. Why was Flora acting so weird with Logan? Did she know who they were? Did she hear the news or overhear a conversation? What was running through her head?

Terrell cleared his throat. “I’m gonna clean up the kitchen. Why don’t you two kids pop in a movie on Netflix or something until your mom and dad get home?”

Virgil nodded his head in confirmation. He sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to him. “Flo, why don’t you come and sit next to me?”

Flora stared up at Logan for a moment longer before walking over to Virgil’s side. Logan shivered. They watched Flora leave and caught Virgil’s eye. Virgil shrugged, and Logan wished there was an explanation for whatever happened between them and Flora.

“You can sit on the other side of the couch, Lo,” Virgil informed.

Logan swallowed and joined the two of them on the couch. Flora’s eyes continued to study them, and Logan tried to stare forward and avoid her gaze.

“Is he the secret?” Flora asked.

“Yes, they are,” Virgil answered.

Flora turned her head and hit Logan again with her studying glare. Logan wished they could sink into the couch.

“Why do you look like Mr. Shea?”

Both Virgil and Logan froze. They shared a look between each other, and Flora’s gaze turned into a look of curiosity. Her lips curled into a smile.

Flora continued, “Wait, are you Mr. Shea? Are you the surprise?”

Flora stood on the couch and jumped into them. Logan couldn’t breathe. They looked over at Virgil for help, but he looked just as stunned. Flora wrapped her arms around Logan’s neck and squeezed.

“Mr. Shea! Why weren’t you in school? I missed you! Were you with Virgil all day? Are you two friends? Why is your hair black now? How did you take all your freckles off? Oh! I forgot Virgil’s picture in my desk. Can we go back to school and get it?”

“Whoa, Flora,” Virgil tried to pull Flora from Logan’s neck. Flora held tight, “Flora, please let go of Logan. They're not a toy.”

“Flora,” Logan did their best to keep their voice calm, “I’m unsure of who this Mr. Shea is, but I think you’ve confused me for someone else.”

Flora pulled back and stared into Logan’s eyes. Logan’s muscles slacked, and they took in a deep breath. Flora studied them closer and pouted.

“But… but you have the same eyes. And you have the same glasses. And you have the same face. Well, kind of. Mr. Shea has freckles.”

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat. Freckles. This person had freckles and looked like Logan. Virgil shared a knowing look with Logan and tried to keep his nerves in his stomach.

“Do you have a picture of Mr. Shea or something?” Virgil asked.

Flora tapped her chin. “Oh, daddy might have one on his phone! He always takes pictures of everything.”

Virgil snorted. That was an understatement. Now all he had to do was wait until his dad got home and then he had a slim chance of finding out who the mystery person he’d been drawing for years was. Slim, but there.

Virgil clicked on the remote and shuffled through the apps. He opened Netflix and signed in. Flora continued to stare at Logan, who continued to stare anywhere but Flora. Virgil didn’t know whether to laugh or shield his friend from his sister’s lack of personal space.

“Hey, Finding Dory is still on,” Virgil spoke. He looked over at Logan. “Wanna watch a movie about fish?”

“Not particularly-”

“FINDING DORY!” Flora bounced on the couch. Logan moved aside as the child bounced up and down. “YES! YES! FINDING DORY!”

“Okay, okay,” Virgil said through his laugh. He leaned over to glance at Logan. “Sorry, Lo, looks like Flora wins.”

“I hardly feel that’s a democratic vote,” Logan grumbled.

“Well, Flora wants it, and I’ll watch whatever Flora wants, and that’s two to three in my book.”

Logan leaned back in their seat and blew a heavy breath through their nose. It appeared colorful at least. Flora flopped down on the couch and nuzzled into Virgil’s side like playdough. Virgil didn’t seem to mind. Logan wondered how Virgil could stand being touched without preparation.

“You ready?” Virgil asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Logan grumbled.

Virgil pushed the play button, and Logan watched a series of titles come up on the screen. Who or what those titles meant they didn’t know, but the thought of their lamp from their cell’s bedside table becoming animate scared them.

_“Hi, I’m Dory, and I suffer from short-term remembery loss.”_

Logan studied the tiny fish on the screen. It was just a child, at least the equivalent of a child. What was a baby fish called? They’d have to look it up sometime. When their attention focused back on the movie, they noticed something peculiar about the interaction between this Dory and… its parents. Even with its apparent disability, its parents still cared about its well being.

The movie progressed, and Logan found themself more and more entranced. This fish was annoying but charming in her own right. It wasn’t her fault fate dealt her the cards she received. They found themself awed that the other fish worked around her disability and made her feel included.

What really struck a note with him was how Dory could remember bits and pieces of her past. What if… what if… he missed a memory? What if there was still a memory of them and their sister together that they didn’t erase?

What if Macy remembered bits of them? Would she come looking for them? Was she looking right now?

Despite not wanting to watch the movie, Logan found themself charmed in more ways than one. They couldn’t help but put Macy in Dory’s place. What if they erased too much? What if they caused Macy harm by replacing her memories of them? What if she was never the same afterward?

The thought of harming their sister caused a sour taste in their mouth. If only they knew where she was, they’d hold her and tell her everything. How they had to do it so she wouldn’t be experimented on too. How they had to take her place so she could live a normal life. Macy was so caring and accepting of them, and they couldn’t bear to know she would suffer the way they had.

Virgil kept glancing over at Logan the entire time. He was glad Logan at least showed they were enjoying it, but as the movie progressed, he wondered if it hit too close to home, especially with Dory being taken by the marine life institute. Was that what happened? Was Logan taken away from their family just because they were different?

Or maybe it was Dory herself. Logan whole life was nothing but memories. They could pluck a memory someone totally forgot out of their brain, they could change it so that the person thought something entirely different happened, and they could erase it just as quickly. Were they imagining what they’d be like if their mutation wasn’t present?

Virgil regretted putting the movie on halfway through when Logan had a trail of tears rolling down their face. He grabbed a box of tissues from the table to his left and bumped them into Logan’s arm. Logan looked up, and Virgil gestured for Logan to take one. Logan wiped the tears from their eyes, just as shocked that they were crying, and tried to focus on the movie again.

“I cried too the first time if that makes you feel better,” Virgil whispered.

“Why would that make me feel better?” Logan asked.

Virgil opened his mouth but closed it soon after. He shook his head. The rest of the movie played out, and by the end, Logan used about half of the tissue box.

Flora leaned over and patted Logan’s arm. Logan failed to flinch away. She spoke, “Don’t cry, Logan. It’s a happy ending. Dory found her family again.”

“I’m aware,” Logan replied. They sniffled and wiped their eyes one last time.

Flora hugged onto Logan, and Logan broke their staring contest with the television to look down at her. Flora nuzzled her head into their arm. She kept petting it like Logan was a scared animal. Logan snuffed and patted her hair with their other hand.

“Wow, you two bonded quick,” Virgil noted.

Logan blinked up at him then back down at Flora. They were about to retort when the door to the house opened. Virgil leaned his head back on the couch. “Oh, hey mom.”

“Virgil, you’re home!”

Logan’s eyes widened. They watched Virgil stand from the couch and hug his mother. His mother, who had short red hair pulled back into a bun. His mother, who had haunted gray eyes Logan would never forget. His mother, who came to the institute ready to give up on life after the death of her unborn child.

His mother, who Logan erased the memory of ever miscarrying.

“You’ve gotten so thin,” she commented.

Virgil groaned. “Mom, I swear I’ve been eating.”

His mother gave a disapproving hum. Flora bounded off the couch, ran up to her mother, and hugged her legs.

“Mommy! I got to see a puppy at show and tell today,” she chirped.

“That’s great sweetheart,” her mother replied. She leaned down and gave her daughter a proper hug and kiss.

“And Virgil brought a friend over,” Flora added.

Virgil’s mom looked up, and her eyes froze Logan to the core. Her smile may have been warm, but the memory of what they’d done to her froze them solid.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” Virgil’s mother spoke. She started walking toward them, and Logan stood. They tried to keep their body from shaking too much. She held out a hand. “My name is Vanessa, sweetie, but if you want to, you can just call me “mom” okay?”

I know, Logan wanted to say. Instead, they put on a quirk of a smile and answered, “It’s an honor to meet you.”

They shook hands, and Logan looked up into her eyes once again. They held such warmth and care that Logan wondered if it was possible to melt in a human’s embrace.

“So, how long are you two going to stay?” Vanessa asked and turned to look at Virgil.

“Oh,” Virgil caught Flora gazing at him with interest, “Maybe the night or so. Pop started making cookies with us, so-”

“Do I hear my Nessa in the living room?”

Terrell came from the kitchen with a dish towel slung over his shoulder. Logan allowed him to walk past, and Terrell scooped Vanessa up in his arms and held her bridal style. He spun her around and kissed her on the lips.

“Eww,” Flora grumbled, and Virgil leaned down to cover her eyes.

“Really, Pop? Think of the children.” Virgil joked.

“If the children have a problem with me making out with my wife, they can go set the table,” Terrell replied, though there was no malice in his voice. He leaned in and planted another kiss to his wife’s forehead. “I hope you had a good day, honey.”

“It was torture. Remind me why I work there again,” she grumbled.

“One,” he planted a kiss to her cheek, “you love animals. Two,” he planted a kiss to her nose, “you like making a difference in the world. Three,” he planted a kiss to her neck, “you know even if you had the worst day, I’ll still be here to pick you up.” She laughed and pulled his face in close to kiss his lips.

Logan watched the interaction with awe. They never saw such a relationship with tender hugs and kisses like that before. Sure, they read about love like that in stories, but those were just stories. As far as they knew, people nowadays fell out of love more than they stayed in it. Was this a common ritual among lovers? Did they always push their face into one another and share their saliva? How could they stand another person that close to their personal space?

Humans were so confusing.

“Virgil, if you two are staying overnight, why don’t you get the guest bedroom ready? I’m sure he’d rather sleep there than on your floor.”

Virgil watched Logan’s facial expression flinch at the pronoun, and Virgil pursed his lips. He spoke, “Uh, mom, he’s they, remember? Not him.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said as she turned her attention to Logan, “they’d probably like sleeping on a bed than the floor. At least, I’d think so, wouldn’t you, sweetie?”

Logan’s skin crawled as all eyes settled on them. They replied, “Oh, um, it’s no problem at all. I am quite comfortable on the floor. I have been sleeping on the floor for about six months now, so it would be no detriment to my sleeping pattern to sleep on the floor of Virgil’s room.”

“Virgil, have you been sleeping on the floor too?” Vanessa asked. Virgil knew that look in her eye, and he knew if she found out what their living conditions were like-

“Why does he call himself a  _they_ and not a  _he_?” Flora questioned. “Isn’t he a boy?”

Ah, saved by Flora’s curiosity. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he was going to have this conversation with Flora eventually.

“I am not,” Logan answered for him.

Flora tilted her head. “Then are you a girl?”

“No, I am neither a girl nor a boy. I am a genetic experiment that-”

“OKAY!” Virgil hastened over and covered Logan’s mouth. He laughed nervously, “Um, Flora, you know how sometimes when I was at the house, I would dress up in skirts and wear makeup and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Flora replied, “like when we played dress up?”

“Kind of. You see,” Virgil searched his mind for the right way to explain this.He sighed, shared a look with his parents and swallowed. Perhaps it was time. “You know how whenever you look in the mirror, you see a pretty, confident girl staring back?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, sometimes when I look in the mirror, so do I.”

“But you always see a pretty girl in the mirror when I’m standing next to you.”

Virgil laughed, “Yeah, that’s true. But sometimes I look at myself and see a girl. Usually, it’s a boy, but sometimes it’s not. We’re... a bit different from you.”

Flora furrowed her brows. She nodded her head and replied, “Oh okay. But if you sometimes see a girl, why don’t you say you’re a girl?”

Virgil let his hands fall away from Logan’s mouth. He remembered having the same conversation with Logan three months ago. Now here he was trying to explain it to his sister, but he couldn’t use half the words he used with Logan.

“It’s confusing. I don’t even understand it myself,” Logan replied for him. “Virgil showed no qualms with me, so why he reserve that part of himself from you, I don’t know.”

“Flora’s too young, Logan. I don’t want to confuse her too,” Virgil mumbled and glanced over his shoulder at Logan, who merely shrugged in reply.

Flora put a hand on his arm, and he turned his attention back to her. “Virgil, if you feel like a girl, I’ll call you a girl. It's not confusing to me.”

Virgil’s eyes teared up. He knelt down and held his sister in a tight hug. Flora stroked his back and hugged him tightly.

“What did I do to deserve you, huh?” Virgil asked.

“Just lucky I guess,” Flora replied. She hugged Virgil for a moment longer and looked up at Logan. “If you’re not a boy or a girl, what do you see in the mirror?”

Logan took a deep breath. They caught Virgil’s sharp glance, and they cleared their throat.

“I merely see a human being. I don’t understand gender conformity, and therefore I feel no need to conform to it.”

“Okay,” Flora replied. She walked past Virgil. “I want some juice.”

“You need any help?” Vanessa asked, now safely on the ground as her husband lay an arm around her shoulders.

“No, I got it. I’m a big tough girl who don’t need no man.”

“That’s my girl,” Terrell replied.

Virgil stood up once Flora was out of earshot. He rose a brow at Logan.

“Well, you handled that better than I thought you would.”

“Is it not the job of older adults to assume the teaching role and model proper examples for their young?” Logan asked.

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t even know what gender was until I explained it to you.”

“The only thing I knew about gender was that the lab would refer to me as “he” because I had the reproductive system of a male human, likewise with the female counterparts and referring to them as “she.” There was no “they” option. Therefore, I had to learn it from someone else, that someone else being you. Knowledge is not born within us. It’s a shared communication between others. If one does not communicate a lesson, then how is a person supposed to learn it?”

“Well I guess when you put it that way,” Virgil mumbled. He never felt so silly about hiding his gender from Flora before.

“Well, he, she, or they, I’m glad you were here to help my little girl through it,” Vanessa spoke. “We’ve been trying to figure out how to tell her about Virgil since she turned three.”

“Children are much more open to learning than adults because their mind has not yet been corrupted by other people’s experiences. All one would need to do is explain the way the world works, and the child will believe it. I read so in a few human study books over time.”

“I’m sure you’d make a great teacher one day,” Terrell spoke.

Logan grew quiet. They did enjoy explaining things to others, and they did enjoy passing their knowledge on. If they were born in a normal setting, would they have become a teacher or mentor of some sort to others? They never had a teacher before, other than the people who gave them information through memories.

“Speaking of teachers,” Virgil asked, “Mom, you wouldn’t happen to have a picture of Flora’s kindergarten teacher, would you?”

She shook her head, “No, but I’m pretty sure your dad took a million pictures of her first day.” Her eyes widened, “Oh, sweetie, you missed it. Is that why you want the pictures?”

“Not exactly,” Virgil replied. He grabbed his backpack from beside the couch and pulled out a sketchbook. Page after page, he led his parents through the multiple pictures of the strange freckled person in his visions.

“You know how I’ve been drawing them for five years, and I thought it was Logan when I met them, right? Well, it’s not. And when Flora confused Logan for her teacher, I thought maybe it could be them.”

“Come to think about it, Mr. Shea-” Terrell paused, “you both have the same last name. Do you happen to have a brother?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Logan replied. “I did have a sister, but I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Well,” Flora’s voice came behind them, her lips perched on a cup full of apple juice. She swallowed and continued, “You don’t think you’re a boy or a girl, and Virgil sees a girl in the mirror sometimes, so what if your sister sees a boy all the time? Would she call herself a boy?”

Logan and Virgil connected their gaze. Why hadn’t Logan thought of that before? They stared at the pages of Virgil’s sketchbook. If this was their “Macy” and they finally found her- him- them-

The front door clicked open, and a man came through the door pulling at his tie. He slid his shoes off, and he kicked them into the pile of shoes beside the door.

“You would not believe what-”  The man stopped and stared at his family plus one huddled over one of Virgil’s sketchbook. His stomach sank. “Please don’t tell me Virgil drew me falling down a flight of stairs again.”

“Welcome home, Jun-seo,” Vanessa greeted.

“Dad, do you have any pictures of Flora’s first day?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah,” Jun-seo pulled his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through a few pictures, “Is everything okay?”

They briefly explained the situation, and Jun-seo nodded his head. “I took at least fifty. Which one do you want to see?”

“Any of them,” Virgil replied. Jun-seo handed his phone over to his son, and Virgil stared down at a picture of Flora standing in front of the classroom number. A picture with the words “Mr. Shea” written in loopy letters, with badly drawn cats and pawprints stood above her head.

Virgil put his fingers to the screen. They tingled. The tingling traveled up his arm and toward his head. He caught Logan’s wide eyes before he saw the hallway of a school instead.

_..._

_“Smile, baby girl,” Terrell’s voice spoke to his left._

_“Ooh, my little girl’s first day of kindergarten,” his mother cooed. She reached forward and cuddled Flora into a hug._

_“Momma, I don’t wanna go,” Flora cried into her shoulder._

_“Oh, I know, sweetie. But Virgil won’t come home if you stay there.”_

Virgil’s heart pinched.

_“But what if he does? What if I miss him?”_

_“Flora,” his father’s voice came from him. “I know Virgil would be proud to see you here, and he’d wait for you to get home. He’d never leave without seeing you.”_

_Flora flopped her head on her mother’s shoulder. Vanessa picked her up and walked her inside the classroom._

_The walls were a light blue color. Desks stood in groups of four, all facing each other with name tags taped to them, and clustered around the classroom. Stuffed animals lined the counters and sat in a pile next to three beanbag chairs and books. Bright bulletin boards welcomed the new students. Kids screamed, laughed, and played together on the floor._

_“Good morning,” a sugar sweet voice spoke beside them. Virgil’s dad turned his head, and he came face to face with hauntingly familiar blue eyes, a beautiful smile, and the star freckled stranger in Virgil's’ visions. “I’m Patton Shea. It’s nice to meet you.”_

Patton.

 _Patton_.

Their name was _Patton_. The name buzzed in Virgil’s mind like a melody.

_“Nice to meet you. We're Flora’s parents,” Terrell spoke as he held out a hand. Patton shook it, and he shook Virgil’s mother’s hand as well. He hesitated when he came to Virgil’s father. Jun-seo held his hand out to shake, and Patton gratefully took it._

_“Nice to meet all three of you,” Patton replied. He knelt down. “And you must be Flora.”_

_Flora buried her face in her mother’s legs. Her mom patted her hair and replied, “Yes, this is Flora. She’s a little scared today.”_

_“Aww, I’m sorry to hear that,” Patton replied. He spoke to Flora directly. “Change can be pretty hard, huh kiddo? You know, I’m scared too.”_

_Flora peeked out from her mom’s leg. She eyed Patton over._

_“Grown ups don't get scared,” she mumbled._

_“Of course we do.” Patton's voice stayed in its gentle tone. “I don't know anything about my new class. I don't know if you're going to be nice to me or be nice to your friends. I don't know if I'm going to do good teaching you-”_

_“Well don't be scared,” Flora puffed out her chest. “I'll make sure the other kids are nice to you.”_

_“What a brave girl you are, Flora,” Patton answered. He nodded his head. “Okay, Flora, if you can be brave, I'll try too.”_

_Flora nodded then looked around the room. “I'm gonna go play now.”_

_“You go have fun,” Patton urged. Flora bounded off to join a group of girls playing with puzzles. Patton turned his head to look to Virgil's parents. “Is there anything special I should know about Flora, like any allergies or insecurities?”_

_“Well, her brother, Virgil, has been away for a while,” his mother spoke. “They're both very close.”_

_“Military?”_

_“No, he moved out of the house with his boyfriend.”_

_“Ah, I see. So she has a lot of changes in her life right now. Tell you what. If you give me a picture of her brother, I'll laminate it and let her keep it. That way, when she misses him, she can look at it. It might make her feel better.”_

_“No problem. I have a million pictures of him,” Virgil's dad spoke._

_“That really is sweet of you,” Terrell added._

_Patton laughed. Virgil already adored him._

_“Well, I couldn't picture me being another way with my kiddos,” Patton chirped._

_“Oh, he puns. I like you,” Virgil's mom said._

_“All right, Nessa. Let's get you out of here before you start a pun contest.”_

_..._

Virgil got one last good look at Patton before the picture’s memory ran out. He blinked back into the present, all eyes on him.

Logan watched him with a special kind of interest. Virgil never revealed he could travel into a picture’s memory because he had no pictures to travel back into before. He sent them a half smile. That would be an explanation for another day.

“It’s them,” Virgil breathed. “The person I’ve been drawing. It’s been them all along.”

“Did you hear a name?” Logan asked and bit their lip. Virgil turned to them. No doubt they wanted to hear the name “Macy” confirmed by Virgil, but he couldn’t. He scrolled through the pictures on his father’s phone. There had to be at least one picture of Patton in here, whether it be just in the corner or-

There.

Virgil showed Logan the phone, and Logan marveled at the image before them. They touched the screen, and their eyebrows creased. Mr. Shea sat at his desk as Flora posed for a picture with her friends.

“They do strike a resemblance to me,” Logan breathed. It was almost like looking in a mirror, save for the freckles that dotted the person’s face. Logan’s fingertips massaged their own cheeks.

“They said their name was Patton.”

Logan glanced up. It wasn't Macy, but they knew that name. The actor from the other might referred to them as Patton when they met. Virgil claimed he saw the person from the drawing that night. It couldn't be a coincidence. 

Logan spoke, “Then perhaps we should pay this Patton a visit.”

“Well, hopefully, they’ll be at school on Monday.” Virgil turned to Flora. “How would you feel if I stayed for the whole weekend?”

Flora’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Virgil, I’d love it! It’d be like a giant sleepover!”

Virgil allowed Flora to jump in his arms. He glanced up at Logan, who stared at the window lost in thought. No doubt it had to hurt to hear Mr. Shea was not their sister, but perhaps Virgil could figure out why he’d been drawing Patton for five years.

Virgil never thought he’d be so excited to go back to school.

\--

 _Subject # 240_  
Defect: Memory manipulation  
Sex: Male  
Age: 14  
Test #: 1̸҉̵0̵͜͡͏2̶̨3̶͝҉͟4̧̨̕͞2̸͘͠3̸̛͞

_Notes:  
Subject to terminate  ҉͏̵S̀ub̸͜je̢c̷̷͞t ̧̛͠8̡9̸̢  memories under orders of ̛͜sea͢v̛é̶e̵̢e͜͝e̢e͜e̶͝ee̸͡e̕͟n̨s̀҉t̸t̶̨͠ę͠͏e̢͏e͏e͘n̢͟ą͢͡ ̶́͘s͏ş̧͢d̸dd̶̢̨d̕dd͢͠ḑa̵̵ ͟wơ͠͝v̨ņaw̶̵͝e̷͘t͘h͝ be exterminated immediately._

_Test: P̶̛͏̷A̵̵͜҉S̷̕A̴͢À̛҉́A̵͘A̷̕S͘S҉̸S̷̸̨̛͞S̢͞Ś̀͘͞Ś͝S̴͘͜S̀͘̕͠͞A̛̕͡A̕A̸̶͟A̷̡̨͝Á̡̢̛D͝_

_…_

_The file cannot be repaired further. Delete?_

_…_

_…_

_File successfully deleted._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is returning home to his roots. He’s hoping he can get some normalcy there. After all, if you can’t trust your own mother, who can you trust?  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: fainting, mentions of nosebleeds, crying, that’s about it   
> Word Count: 4866

_His arm was on fire._

_Not in the literal sense, but it might have well been. He screamed. He screamed until his throat ran raw. He screamed until he couldn’t see straight. He screamed until a dark shape shook his shoulders._

_Ice blue eyes cooled his skin. They froze his muscles and turned his screams into tears. The world fuzzed out. He choked on his tears. He gasped. He clawed at breath and life._

_The person’s lips moved, but their voice sounded as if they shouted underwater. Maybe he was drowning. He tried to grab the person’s shoulder, but only one arm responded. The other curled into his chest._

_The warmth left his shoulders. No. No, come back! Help. Someone help! Please help!_

_He squeezed his eyes shut. His hair stuck to his face through tears and sweat. What happened? Why was he laying on the ground? Why was his arm bent that way?_

_The person returned. Their voice whispered, a soft sound that helped him catch his breath. It repeated over and over, getting softer every time until it barely existed at all._

_“It’s going to be okay.”_

_“It’s going to be okay.”_

_“It’s going to be okay.”_

\--

“Roman, are you almost ready?” Patton called from the living room.

“Only a few more things, my love.”

Patton rolled his eyes and shook his head. Really, they’d only be gone for a few days at best. He didn’t need to pack his whole closet. However, he realized this was Roman, and Roman never did anything off the cuff.

He checked his watch. His class would be starting soon, and a dull ache constricted his chest. Who did they get to substitute? Would they treat his students fairly? Would they be patient with Ryu and his stutter? Would they hold Deandre until he stopped crying? Would they keep Susan away from Olivia when she picked on her too much?

He hated leaving his class with strangers.

“You’ve been packing for almost four hours,” Patton groaned. He sat down on his suitcase and put his cheeks in his palms.

“You never know what you’ll run into. What if I have a bad hair day?”

“But you always have beautiful hair.”

“Aww, Patton.”

Patton’s lips pulled into a soft smile, and he sighed. The ticking of his watch matched his heartbeat, and he closed his eyes. While he slept well for a few hours, he and Roman were still up late packing for the morning. He hoped he wouldn’t fall asleep on Roman’s mother.

Speaking of his mother, he wondered what she was like. Roman had nothing but nice words to say about her. She apparently adopted him when he was rather young after his father’s mental breakdown and treated him as if he were her own son. Patton would get behind anyone with such a heart like that.

“Okay,” Roman popped his head out from the doorway. He carried two suitcases plus a bag over his shoulder and one under his arm. Patton grabbed the one from Roman’s elbow, and Roman sent him a grateful look. “Thanks.”

“Did you pack your whole closet?” Patton asked with a giggle.

“Like you’re one to talk. How many stuffed animals did you put in your bag?”

“Only three,” Patton puffed out his cheek. “It was a hard decision and I still didn’t take as long as you.”

“But I bet you packed two blankets.”

“You leave my patch blanket alone.”

Roman laughed and playfully nudged Patton with his shoulder. Patton started to laugh, and he adjusted his backpack on his shoulders with a tiny hop.

“You ready to get going?” Roman asked. Patton nodded his head. He made sure all the windows were locked, well the ones that weren’t currently broken, turned off all the lights, and locked the door behind them.

The street continued as if nothing happened the night before. Some people brushed up glass from the sidewalk, others put plastic over their broken windows, and a few passing strangers gossiped about an explosion the night before. Roman kept his cool. They didn’t know he was responsible. He and Patton would be fine.

The two stopped at the end of the sidewalk, and Roman set his bags down with a heavy sigh. According to Patton’s watch, the taxi should be here in about five minutes. That meant it’d only take an hour or so to get to his mother’s house.

Roman pulled out his phone. He reread the texts he sent his mother in the middle of the night.

_**Me** : Me and Patton are gonna swing by for the weekend. That okay?_

_**Ratu cantik** : IT’S ABOUT TIME!! When r u 2 coming? Are u just staying for the weekend? I’ll make some char siu tonight in ur honor. Oh, how many beds should I prepare ;)_

_**Me** : MOM!!_

_**Ratu cantik** : What? I want my son and his “guest” 2 b comfortable._

_**Me** : Oh my stars, Patton and I are just fiends. I’ve told you this._

_**Me** : *friends_

_**Ratu cantik** : Sure. U kno I’ll fite anyone who picks on u 2 rite? U don’t have to lie to ur mum ;)_

_**Me** : Two beds are fine, thanks._

_**Ratu cantik** : OK if ur sure… when r u coming?_

_**Me** : About five hours._

His mother hadn’t gotten back to him after that. Roman wondered if she ran around the house panicking because she wanted everything to be perfect. He smiled. He learned a lot of his dramatic attitude from his mother, and she took total credit for it.

Finally, the taxi met them. Their driver helped Roman load the back with their suitcases, and they hastened down the street. Patton kept glancing over at Roman, who stared out the taxi window. He wondered what ran through the other’s head.

Roman hadn’t said much to him since last night. Was he still upset? Patton, in all honesty, was afraid of what happened, but who wouldn’t be? He didn’t know Roman could do all that damage with just a shout. Perhaps that’s why he never talked about his abilities that much. Patton sighed. If this silence went on any longer, he was going to explode.

“So, an hour or so until we get there, right?” Patton asked to try and break the tension.

Roman nodded his head. “Depending on traffic. We probably should’ve left before rush hour, but I wanted to give my mom some time. Besides, this gives me time to talk about my family a bit.”

“Oh yes!” Patton leaned in on his backpack, which he had nestled in his arms. “I mean, you’ve told me so much already, but I’m sure there’s more.”

Roman smiled and looked down. He took a deep breath. “The first thing I want you to know is, ah, when we get there, it’s important to-” Roman ran a hand through his hair, “Patton, my family, they’re… there are rules you have to follow that-”

“Roman, just tell me,” Patton spoke in a gentle voice. “The last thing I want to do is offend them.”

“Okay,” Roman sucked in a deep breath and smiled. “Okay. I know your first thought when you meet a stranger is to shake their hand or pull them into a hug, but it’s important with my mom and my sisters that you wait until they touch you.”

Patton tilted his head to the side a bit. “Are they germaphobic?”

“No, but it’s disrespectful to touch a woman who you aren’t familiar with unless they touch you first in our religion.”

“Oh!” Patton chewed his lip. “Okay, that’s gonna be hard, but I’ll try.”

“Don’t worry. My mom’s a hugger if you’re nice, so you’ll probably get a hug, especially since I’ve been hyping you up for a year and a half.”

Patton breathed a sigh of relief. He nodded his head, and he watched Roman put a hand onto his chest. “If you want to, you can greet her by putting your hands together like you’re going to pray, but my mom will probably tell you not to.”

“Oh, okay.” Patton pinched his toes together in his shoe.

Roman watched Patton with curiosity. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Patton looked up into Roman’s eyes. “It’s just… I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never really met anyone who was Muslim at their home, so I don’t want to offend them.”

“Patton, they’re going to love you. Trust me, my mom already loves you, and she’s never met you before. If you have a question, just ask.”

The rest of the ride, Roman gave Patton various tips on what to expect. Patton listened intently. He knew he should remove his shoes, as Roman always did when he entered their home as well, but not sitting cross legged would be a hard one to remember. He also thanked his stars he was not left handed.

Roman went on to explain that his mother moved from Malaysia to the United States when she was young after his grandfather got promoted to head of the American branch of a company. She was the youngest of four siblings, two brothers and a sister. He also mentioned she was a bit of a troublemaker in the family, her flashy style and headstrong attitude getting her in trouble a lot.

Apparently, she met his father through a business meal with her father. As always, her father kept pushing her at every man he deemed worthy. She politely refused. However, after the second time he entered their home, she was charmed by his will to make the world a better place. Within a year, they fell in love, and they were together until his mental breakdown.

Roman didn’t like speaking of his father. Patton respected it, but he couldn’t help but wonder what actually happened. According to Roman, his father was out of his life too early for him to remember much of him, and his sisters and mother were the only family he ever knew. Well, besides his numerous cousins and elderly relatives that came to the United States with his grandparents.

The taxi pulled to a halt outside of a rather wealthy neighborhood, and Roman pointed the taxi in the direction of his house. Patton watched houses that cost more than he’d ever see in his lifetime pass them by.

The taxi stopped outside of a wooden and stonewalled house. It must’ve been 3 stories high. The front yard held flowers galore, mostly white flowers. Roman said they were called Arabian Jasmines, and his mother loved them. The white gravel pathway to the house split around a large rectangular pool of water with lily pads and fountains in the center of it. Lantern lights lit the path. The porch held a giant white swing, and the solid white door had carvings of flowers on it.

Patton’s jaw dropped. He knew Roman came from a well off family, but he didn’t realize they were this well off. Roman stepped out of the taxi. He thanked the man and tipped him generously, and the driver even helped him carry their luggage to the door. Roman walked back to the taxi and opened Patton’s door, a nervous smile on his face.

“You like it?” Roman asked.

“It’s beautiful,” Patton mumbled in awe. He stood out of the cab and clutched his bag close to his chest. Suddenly he felt underdressed and dirty.

“Yeah, I guess you can say I got my sense of style from my mom,” Roman commented.

The taxi man drove away, and Patton and Roman walked up to the door. Patton stood slightly behind Roman. He didn’t want to take attention away from a mother and a son being reunited. Roman rang the doorbell and straightened out his shirt.

From inside the doors, harsh footsteps descended the stairs. The door flung open. An elderly woman in a beautiful blue and white flowered head scarf made a surprised cry. Roman smiled and lifted her hand to his forehead.

“Hello, mom,” Roman greeted. His mother wrapped her arms around her son’s chest and nearly picked him up. Patton marveled at her strength for a moment.

“Oh, my son! I’ve missed you so!” she chirped. She put a smiling Roman down on the ground and put both her hands on his cheeks. “Why don’t you come visit me more? I’m wasting away to nothing here by myself.”

“You have Damia and Nor,” Roman argued.

“Aaaah, they’re never home either. I guess that’s what I get for allowing them to be a doctor and a lawyer,” Roman’s mother put her hands on her hips and tried to peek over her son’s broad shoulders, “Now, who is this Patton I’ve heard so much about.”

Roman looked behind him, and Patton perked up. He stepped off to the side.

“Mom, this is Patton,” he introduced.

Patton put on a bright smile and put his hands together. He drew in a deep breath and chirped, “Hello!”

The color drained from her face. Patton watched her dark brown eyes roll into her head, and she collapsed on the floor.

“Mom!” Roman yelped. He knelt down beside her and chewed on his lip. He knew she had a weak heart, but he didn’t think she’d faint over meeting Patton. Roman quick flopped his shoes off, pulled his phone out, squeezed it between his shoulder and his ear, and grabbed a fan from inside the house. He started fanning his mother while the phone rang.

“Mindi! It’s important- no I’m okay, but let Nor know my mom just fainted.” Roman’s eyes flickered over to Patton, who looked horrified at the whole situation. Roman wondered what went on in Patton’s head. The phone chirped, and an annoyed voice spoke loud and clear.

_“Roman, I’m in the middle of a qigong class!”_

“Nor, mom just fainted. Has she fainted recently?”

_“Wow, did you surprise her that much when you came home? Okay, is she breathing? Check her airways and pulse.”_

Roman did as he was asked. “Everything seems fine.”

_“Then her blood pressure probably bottomed out again. I’ll take a look at her when I get home. She better be taking her heart medication.”_

“You know Mom,” Roman said with a roll of his eyes. He thanked Nor and clicked his phone off. Within a few seconds, his mother tossed her head to the side. She met her son’s eyes and smiled up at him.

“When did I get to the floor,” she said with a laugh.

Roman sighed and shook his head. He helped his mother sit up, and she thanked him. Her eyes then turned once again to Patton, and her smile fell away.

“Did I do something wrong?” Patton asked, his fingers weaving in between one another.

“Roman,” his mother whispered. She flicked her eyes to him then back at Patton. “Do you know who that is?”

“Why, of course,” Roman laughed, though it was nervous if anything. “That’s Patton, you know, Patton Shea, the man I’ve been telling you about for almost two years.”

Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. She shook her head and sighed. 

“I could’ve sworn- but that would’ve been impossible.”

Roman furrowed his brow, and he shared a look with Patton. Patton studied the woman with a sad smile and curiosity.

“Did you,” Patton started out slow, “did you happen to think I was Logan Shea?”

Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath. Patton didn’t need an answer besides that to confirm what she thought.

“I think I’m starting to wonder if everyone knows who this Logan is but me,” Roman mumbled.

“That’s not entirely true,” his mother sighed. She stood, and she allowed Roman to help her up by the elbow. Her cheery demeanor returned. “Why don’t I make us all some tea? I think… I have something to discuss with you, Roman.” She flicked her eyes in Patton’s direction and turned without another word.

Patton glanced over his shoulder, wondering if it was a good idea to stay here or not. Roman sensed his discomfort and stood at his side. He put Patton’s hands in his own. The compassion he felt flowed through Patton’s veins, and Patton’s cheeks turned red.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Roman whispered. He pulled Patton through the door and motioned for Patton to remove his shoes. Patton did as he was told.

The front entrance had a white tiled floor, but the rest of the floor was covered in solid oak hardwood flooring. A spiral marble staircase rose to the second floor on the far side of the room. To the left was a living room, with satin white couches and multiple plants and flowers. To his right was the entrance to the dining room.

Roman lead Patton through the foyer and into the white walled living room. From inside, Patton picked out the stone fireplace with pictures lining the mantle. Incense burned on the mantle and clouded the room in the smell of sandalwood. There were two white satin couches sitting at a beautiful patterned blue, green, and teal rug.

Both Patton and Roman sat down on the couch, and Patton pressed his side up against Roman’s torso. He hated the tension he felt from Roman’s mother. It wasn’t malicious, but he could tell she was not particularly pleased to meet him. Could she see through who he presented himself as? Roman mentioned she was open to her son being in a gay relationship, but that would include Patton actually being- no, Patton, not the time to think like that. He played with the bracelet around his wrist. He was safe. It was okay.

Within a few minutes, Roman’s mother came to the living room with a tray. The ceramic white tea kettle had painted blue flowers on it, and the teacups matched. She set it down on the table in front of the couches. Instead of sitting beside Roman, she chose to sit on the other couch. Her eyes flickered between the both of them.

“Patton,” she paused as if the name sounded wrong, “would you like any tea in your sugar?”

“Yes please,” he answered. He watched her take two lumps of sugar out of the container and swirl it around with a spoon. After passing it to him, she poured milk into another cup and handed the tea to Roman.

“You always did know just how I liked it,” Roman spoke with a wink.

His mother offered a smile, and she rose the tea to her lips. Patton noticed the slight tremble in her hand. She lowered the cup with a soft ‘chink’ on its saucer, and her smile slipped away for a moment.

“I do know my Roman better than any other man,” she replied.

Roman smiled at that. He placed his tea down on the table and spoke, “You are taking your medication, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” she replied. She paused. “You called Nor didn’t you?”

“You passed out on the floor, Mom.”

“You know I would’ve been fine,” she said and waved her hand dismissively at him. Roman pursed his lips and shook his head at that.

Her eyes caught Patton’s gaze, and he stiffened. He remembered to smile. Roman’s mother sighed, and she put her tea down on the table.

“I’m guessing you have a few questions,” she spoke, “but first, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Puteri binti Musa, but you can just call me Miss Puteri.”

Patton noted the “miss” and nodded his head. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And it’s nice to finally meet you, Patton,” she sighed and looked into her tea, “I’m almost disappointed you’re not Logan.”

Patton’s head tilted to the right, and Roman’s shoulders stiffened. He swallowed the anger in his gut and turned it into a heavy sigh through his nose.

“Yeah, well, you weren't the only one disappointed. Someone else was looking for him too,” Roman grumbled. His mother rose a brow at him, but Roman decided not to continue. Her honey colored eyes drifted over to Patton, and he stiffened under her gaze.

“Are you two hurt?” she asked, a serious tone replacing her reserved one.

“Not anymore,” Roman replied, but he sucked in a breath and turned away. His mother scowled and stood from her seat.

“Princeton Roman Peters, where are you hurt?”

Roman pulled his tea close to his chest, and Patton watched him slip on a strained smile.

“I’m not hurt, mom, honest. It’s all healed.”

“How long ago was this?”

“About,” Roman looked over at the clock for confirmation. He caught Patton’s eye before returning to his mom and mumbling, “twelve hours ago.”

His mother put her thumb and forefinger on her forehead, almost as if she were rubbing away a headache. She mumbled an “Allah help me” and returned her gaze to her son.

“Roman, no one heals that fast,” she scolded, “now show me where you’re hurt.”

“It was just a nosebleed. I’m fine,” he defended. The two locked into a staring contest, and Patton shifted nervously on the couch. He put his own tea down on the coffee table.

“I helped him fix it,” Patton whispered. Both Puteri and Roman turned to look at him, one with curiosity and the other with wariness. Patton put on a too bright smile, “It was just a nosebleed and a headache after all. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Puteri opened her mouth to respond, but she closed it and shook her head. She whispered, “Well, I’m glad you two are all right.”

Patton watched as the woman collapsed into her chair. Her melancholy aura soaked into his bones and almost made him tear up. She was hurting, and it wasn’t a type of hurt he could fix easily. Patton breathed in, breathed out, and sucked up his courage.

“Why would you be disappointed I wasn’t Logan? Did you know him?” Patton asked.

Puteri let out a bitter laugh, and she nodded his head. “I knew him since he was just a child.”

Roman furrowed his brow, “Then how don’t I know him? Why didn’t you ever talk about him?”

Puteri picked up her tea. Patton noticed the tremble in her hands, and how she avoided Roman’s gaze. She put the tea to her lips and sighed as she put it down. Her eyes refused to leave the tea. She hesitated for a moment before putting the tea down on the counter. Still, she stared into the tea.

Patton noticed the tension replacing the sadness, and he spoke, “It’s okay if you don’t want to-”

“No, it’s… it’s time I told you,” she said as she turned to Roman. Her eyes held a sadness to them, and she continued, “No matter what, Roman, please know that I love you.”

Roman’s jaw slacked as his eyebrows furrowed. He dashed them away and put on a charming smile. His hands reached out and cradled one of his mother’s, and the other hand patted the top of her hand three times.

“No matter what, I will always love you. You’re my mom, after all,” Roman responded.

She gave a broken laugh and shook her head.

“Roman, if I tell you this, you have to promise me you won’t go looking for trouble.”

“Me?” He put a hand to his chest, “Not looking for trouble? I perish at the thought!”

“I’m serious.” She met his eyes, and Roman’s smile slipped away. Her eyes turned toward Patton, and she continued, “You as well. I don’t want either of you two looking for Logan, you understand? In fact, until this whole mess is solved, it’s best if you two stay hidden. Perhaps it’s best if you stay here. I don’t mind watching over you boys-”

“But I have rehearsals and plays to put on,” Roman whined. He could see Patton’s posture stiffening out of the corner of his eye.

“You’ll survive. Besides, that’s what understudies are for.”

“Couldn’t I leave for just a few hours?”

“Absolutely not. It’s way too dangerous, especially since they now know what you both look like.”

“I can’t stay here,” Patton responded. “This whole thing could go on for weeks, and I can’t leave my students for that long.”

“They’ll be fine.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Patton cried out. Roman flinched away, “I have to get back to them. I can’t just leave them with some random substitute. They need me!”

“Patton,” Puteri paused, “someone else will teach your students-”

“It’s not the teaching part,” Patton rose to his feet. “It’s the care that goes into it. I don’t want them being treated like they’re just little kids. I want them to know they matter and that they should always try their best and have someone who they can ask for help and know that someone will pick them up if they fall and they can have someone they can always count on to be there for them and don't think they're stupid or delusional just because they’re different!”

Patton didn’t notice the tears running down his face until he caught tears glistening in Puteri’s eyes. He stopped and wiped his eyes. Roman had started crying as well, but he hid it by looking away.

Puteri’s mouth hung open, and she put a hand to her chest. She closed it and swallowed the tears down her throat.

“You,” she started, but she didn’t finish. Patton collapsed into the couch, and he stared at his tea. He didn’t look up at her until she sighed and continued, “are you gifted as well?”

“Mom,” Roman warned, but he didn’t have the energy to finish.

Patton hesitated then nodded. “I… I can feel what others are feeling, and sometimes if it’s strong enough, I can make people feel what I’m feeling, but I can’t control it.” He looked ready to continue, but he let his voice trail into nothing.

Puteri stood and walked out of the room. Patton watched her, and Roman put his tea down on the table.

“Maybe we should go,” he mumbled. Patton glanced at him, but before he could respond, Puteri returned with a clock and a hammer. Patton pressed his back into the couch. Puteri pushed her tea out of the way and put the clock down. Then the hammer crashed into its face. Roman and Patton both jumped as cogs and glass flew everywhere.

“Mom what in the name of Aretha Franklin!” Roman shouted.

His mother held up a finger, and Roman snapped his mouth shut. She caught Patton’s confused gaze, and she smiled.

Puteri put the hammer down on the table. Her hand then hovered over the clock. As her eyebrows twisted in concentration, the cogs and metal pieces began to skitter across the table. Patton watched in awe as the clock began to reform itself. Not a dent blemished the metal. Roman looked equally as stunned, and he watched his mother with disbelief.

“I am gifted too,” his mother responded, “My whole family line is. That’s why we originally left Malaysia, because- well, we didn’t feel safe any longer. So we came here where we could better hide. I am a technopath. I can fix any machine with a wave of my hand. Sometimes, I can bend metal to my will as well, but that takes more concentration.”

“Mom,” Roman’s jaw dropped, “wait, so that’s how you fixed my controller for my PlayStation so fast!”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you a crying dramatic mess on my floor complaining about how your life just ended, now could I?” Puteri scoffed.

“That’s a beautiful gift,” Patton replied. He watched her face light up, and he couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Why’d you keep it from me for so long?” Roman asked. He paused. “Wait, do Nor and Damia have gifts as well?”

“They do,” she replied with a smile. “Damia can make anyone tell the truth, and Nor can see and heal chi.”

“I knew it! I could never lie when Damia was around,” Roman grumbled. “That doesn’t seem fair, her being a lawyer and all.”

“It gets a lot of people the justice they deserve,” his mother replied, “like those who raped and are trying to get out of it, or those who performed hate crimes or discriminated against someone because they’re a little different.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Roman grumbled.

Patton nodded his head. He smiled, “It’s nice to know they’re using their gifts, but aren’t they afraid they’re going to get caught?”

“I’ve taught my children how to hide themselves and keep their gifts a secret,” Puteri replied. She turned her attention to Roman. He gave a nod of his head, and Patton wondered if that was where his fear of thunderstorms came from.

Still, the thought of her disappointment that he wasn’t Logan echoed in the back of his mind. Was he one of Puteri’s children? Was he a friend? He studied her body language, and he worded his question in his mind before he asked.

“So, what does all this have to do with Logan?” Patton questioned.

Puteri sighed and chewed on her lip. Her eyes caught Patton’s and drifted over to Roman’s to make sure they were listening.

“Everything.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is the past, I'm using he/him pronouns for Logan, as they didn't know what agender was when they were in the facility. Just a heads up if that's going to bother you.

_..Seventeen years ago..._

“For the love of Allah, William, he is a child! You can’t keep treating him like this.”

“Puteri…  _princess_ … I would worry more about yourself and less about some test subject.”

“He’s not a lab rat! He’s a living human being, and you can’t-”

Puteri paused as a hand smacked across her face. She twisted and fell into a pile of scrap metal. Her hand examined her cheek, now cut by metal and dribbling blood, and drew a sharp breath.

William’s glare rivaled the chill of the metal under her arm. Puteri wiped the blood from her cheek with the tips of her fingers. She continued to stare into his soulless eyes with a defiance even her family couldn’t break.

William squatted and put his elbows on his knees. His lips held a mocking smile, and he reached out to touch her cheek. Puteri pulled away. He drew his hand back, sighed, and shook his head.

“You should know better than to speak to one of your superiors like that,” he scolded.

She grit her teeth to keep from snapping back.

William stood and examined the machine behind them. His lips held a tight line, and he stiffened his shoulders.

“I want this machine up and running by this afternoon. If you fail me, I’ll get outside sources to do it, and who knows what’ll happen then. They might make a mistake, and someone might end up getting hurt worse than last time.” William turned to her, and he realized he struck a chord.

Puteri sighed and played with the edges of her sleeve. She nodded her head and stood, and her eyes studied the floor. William smiled and patted her on the shoulder. She froze her muscles in place. The spot on her shoulder burned like she'd been branded. The heat left as quick as it came, and Puteri released all the tension in her body. Thankfully that’s all he touched this time. William walked away from his prize and opened the door.

“I love you,” he called in. Puteri ignored him. He sighed, shook his head, and closed the door behind him.

Puteri sniffled and blinked away her tears. She’d refuse to let her makeup run for that low excuse of a human. Her eyes glanced back at the machine, and she chewed on her bottom lip. Whether she helped or not, that machine would be built, and who knew if it would be standard quality or not. The last time she refused to build a machine, it malfunctioned, and the person inside was nearly fried to a crisp.

She couldn’t let that happen again.

With a heavy heart, Puteri rose her hands over the metal. Her hands tingled, and if she listened to its vibrations, she could almost feel the metal pitying her. It danced around the room and constructed itself into a horrible machine.

A tear slid down her cheek.

She had no choice. She had to keep convincing herself she had no choice.

Another tear.

If she didn’t do it, someone else would. She was just one person, and she couldn’t stop what they did to those trapped against their will by herself. The government turned a blind eye on human experiments as long as you made a good excuse apparently.

More tears.

Who would care about a bunch of mutated people anyway? It’s not like if she escaped these walls she could be free. Anyone who even exhibited any sort of mutation was either shot down in the street, socially cast out, or unable to create a stable life for themselves. Her family had stones thrown at their windows, bonfires in their front yard, and even death threats sent in their mail. That’s why, with a heavy heart, her family left the only home they ever knew and traveled to the United States to achieve the dream of freedom.

What a lie. Apparently, freedom only belonged to those who were socially normal.

Puteri wiped her tears and let out a shaky sigh. She stood and glowered at the devil’s machine below her. Her fingers ran over the straps aimed to tie down the person submitted to its cruelty. Her throat locked up, and she hastened to the door. That’s all she could do, really, run as far away as she could from the horrors she built. These so called scientists may have given her freedom to walk these halls, but she was still a prisoner of the basement floor.

Door after door, Puteri passed the homes of other people who suffered the same fate. She knew every number, every subject, and every person by heart. Room 209 held a boy who could see into your soul and read your mind. Room 323 had a girl who was born with bird wings. Room 99 had a young man who could manipulate people like puppets. Room 293 had a woman who could kill any person she wanted by touching their head, or at least it had until the lab decided she was too dangerous to work with and gave her a lethal injection.

Puteri stopped at 204, a room she visited often. Her hand hovered above the key to the room, and she chewed on her lips. What was she going to say to him? What could she say to him? There was no way in the world she could phrase this to be a good thing.

With a heavy heart, Puteri pushed the key into the lock and turned it. The door creaked open, and she blinked in the low lamplight.

“Oh,” a soft voice came from the other side of the room. Puteri’s heart melted as she stared into those frozen blue eyes. He gave a smile, not a wide one but his equivalent of a smile, and closed his book, “I didn’t expect you here today, Miss Puteri. Are you done with your work?”

Puteri sighed and shook her head. She closed the door behind her, and the key reminded her how much of a prisoner she was as well.

“You’ve been crying,” the boy spoke as he walked across the room. She turned to him, a sad smile on her lips, and she shook her head.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I got something in my eye earlier,” she lied.

The boy looked rather unconvinced, but he accepted the lie. He questioned further, “Why have you chose to come to see me before lunch?”

“Can’t I just say I missed you?” Puteri asked. She watched those calculated eyes study her, and she heaved a sigh. “I… Logan, I-”

“If you don’t want to tell me now, it’s okay,” he responded.

Puteri sighed. Leave it to Logan to still be polite like she deserved his kindness. Logan walked back over to his bed, and he patted the blankets for her to join him. She stared down at the leather locked gloves over his hands. Logan had long ago grown used to the shackles around his wrists, but they still unsettled her.

Puteri’s heels clicked on the floor as she walked over to him. She seated herself, and the bed dipped down with the extra weight. Her fingers wove together. The silence in the room, save for the light background music Logan chose to play when he nervous, could choke her.

Her eyes caught the dark purple bruise on Logan’s cheek, and she sucked in a breath. Her fingers brushed over the bruise, and Logan flinched away. He stared down at the floor, and his body started to shake.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Puteri spoke in a soft, motherly tone. Logan still continued to tremble, and she pulled him into a hug. Logan melted into her embrace, and she shushed him as he buried his nose into her hijab. She could wash his tears off later. A heavy sigh left her lips. For what felt like hours, she cradled Logan into her arms. Maybe if she held him long enough, it’d make up for all the horrors she subjected him to. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“What happened?” she asked. Logan sniffled, and he rubbed his head into her shoulder. She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, “Okay, you don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to.”

“I-I-” Logan’s voice hiccuped. Puteri stroked his hair and shushed him. He almost sat completely in her lap now, and she squeezed his chest onto hers. His frame was way too thin for that of a healthy twelve year old boy, and Puteri contemplated bringing her own food here to feed him as well. She could go without a meal if it meant he got what he deserved for once.

“You’re safe here, Logan. It’s going to be okay,” Puteri whispered. She kissed the top of his head and nestled her chin over his hair. She hadn't realized she started crying again.

After Logan calmed down, he wiped his eyes with his leather gloves and heaved a shuddering sigh.

“They wanted me to read his memory,” Logan spoke, “and I didn’t want to.”

“Who?” Puteri asked. She read the hurt in his eyes, “Oh, nevermind, I bet I know who.”

“I couldn’t. He’s my best friend, and I- I don’t want to know what he’s been through. You should've seen how he looked at me. He- he couldn't even say no. He couldn't say no, and I couldn't- I didn't want to-”

“I know. I know.” Puteri started rocking back and forth, and Logan stopped shaking. She sighed and squeezed him a little tighter. “You are a brave and wonderful person, Logan.”

“I wish they’d just leave us alone,” Logan grumbled. “We didn’t even do anything wrong, and I- she didn’t even hurt anybody. All she did was fix a kid’s arm.”

“I know, and you are such a great big brother. If I were your sister, I’d be honored to have a brother like you.”

Logan gave a breathy laugh. He sighed and closed his eyes. Puteri started humming a lullaby she learned from her mother, one that often put her to sleep when all she could hear were shouts of hatred outside her bedroom window. She ran a hand through Logan’s hair, and Logan started to calm down at last.

She missed this.

Puteri’s mind wandered off to her two girls. She wondered how Damia and Nor were doing. Her girls were strong, but to lose their mother to a horrible man could break any spirit. Hopefully, her family would keep them safe.

Puteri stressed to them they could not let him see they had abilities of their own. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if her girls were subjected to the horrors the other residents here were. As far as her non-mutant husband was aware, they were normal. She preferred to keep it that way.

In a sense, she wondered if caring for Logan and the other young children in the institute was her own coping mechanism. Her girls weren’t the only ones suffering without a mother’s touch. Ever since she was little, all Puteri wanted to be was a mother. She dreamed of raising her own kids to be loving, strong and successful adults. Now, all she could dream about was making sure they stayed hidden and safe.

Why was the world so broken?

Logan sighed, and he spoke, “She doesn’t even remember me.”

It took a moment for Puteri to remember they were talking about his sister. Logan refused to talk to anyone but Puteri about her, and it was by accident he did in the first place. She’d never forget the haunting echo of his scream in the middle of the night. He was only seven at the time for goodness sake. Seven year olds should be playing ball and digging through the mud, not crying in the middle of the night because their sister was almost brought here.

“I know,” Puteri whispered. She stroked his hair, “but I bet if she knew, she’d be grateful.”

Logan nodded his head against her scarf. He leaned back and noticed all the tear stains in the satin.

“I’m sorry I ruined your hijab.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I have six more just like it,” Puteri responded with a faint smile. Logan cracked a smile as well, but it disappeared soon after.

“If I can ask, I’d like to be alone for a little bit,” Logan mumbled. He refused to meet her eyes. “I'm scheduled to have an injection tonight, and I want to make sure I don't pass out again like last time.”

Puteri’s heart broke. She kissed the top of his head.

“Okay, sweetheart,” she sighed. Logan climbed off her lap, and she stood. Logan stared at his sheets as he scooted up against his pillow, and he opened his book. His shoulders still held tension, but Puteri knew no amount of soothing would ease that away.

Puteri’s heels clicked on the tile floor as she walked to the door. The heavy weight of the key in her pocket pulled her down.

She could do it if she wanted to. She could grab Logan and run, and he’d never have to face these stupid tests again. He could be a normal human. He could choose his own path in life. He could be who he wanted to be, see his sister again, and be free.

But Puteri knew that was just a fool’s dream. Even if she let him out, the doors to the top floor were heavily guarded. No one knew they were down here, well, save for the higher ups. They hid behind a medical mask, luring people in to have themselves healed by their “magical” remedies when really, they were nothing more than experiments themselves.

Puteri unlocked the door, and she stepped outside. The cool air chased all of Logan’s warmth away. She shivered.

“I love you,” Logan whispered.

Puteri paused, and she turned back inside to offer a sad smile.

“I love you too, Logan.”

Puteri shut the door and locked him inside. She hesitated before she put the key back in its resting place.

Once again, her heels tapped down the cold hallway. A glance at her watch showed the lunch hours were nearly upon them. Soon, all the subjects would be treated to stale sandwiches, a bag of half frozen apples, a glass of water, and if they were lucky, five or six carrot sticks.

Puteri turned down the hallway to her own room. She never ate until she was sure every last subject got their food. It was common courtesy in her mind. A mother never ate until her children were fed.

“Puteri,” a voice called out.

Puteri turned and saw a curvy woman with curly blond hair and a blood red smile. She wheeled a cart of food down the hall, and Puteri knew why she was looking for her.

“Good afternoon,” Puteri greeted. She stared down at the food. Oh, what a surprise; she guessed lunch correctly for the third year in a row.

“Do you mind feeding Subject 89 for me?” she asked.

Puteri’s blood boiled. He had a name.

“Of course,” Puteri spoke with a sickeningly forced smile. She grabbed his food and clenched her jaw.

“Good luck. He nearly bit my fingers off the last time I went in,” the woman spoke. She pushed past Puteri and continued down the hall, unlocking doors and delivering meals to the other poor souls trapped behind them.

Puteri resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the woman. These so called scientists wouldn't be bit if they treated people here like human beings, but Puteri guessed no one knew how to do that but her.

Puteri stood at the door titled 138 and sighed. She juggled the plate of food in her hands and grabbed the key ring beside the door. Her fingers shook as she unlocked it, more from anger than anything else, and she allowed herself in.

“Knock, knock, food’s here,” she called in as chipper of a tone as she could. She closed the door behind her.

A heavy force pelted into her back, and arms wrapped around her middle. She gasped and tried to keep the water from spilling all over the floor. A warm smile lit her lips as she put her free hand to the ones around her stomach.

“Roman, sweetheart, you’re going to make me spill your lunch.”

The arms released her, and cautious hands reached up to take the tray from her grasp. Roman placed them down on the nightstand beside his bed, and he bounced back over to her. Puteri wrapped him in a proper hug and stroked his back.

“I know, I know, it’s been a while since I was here, huh? Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to visit sooner. I was… busy.”

In reality, Puteri had been forced to build that machine for a week straight. Today was the first day in six they allowed her to wander on her own. They knew it'd break her into submission soon enough. They couldn't make her build it, but they could promise it'd be unpleasant for those she cared about while she was gone.

Judging by Roman's reaction to seeing her, he had a horrible week as well.

Puteri pulled back, and Roman’s green eyes studied hers. She could see the question forming on his brow.

“ _What happened to your cheek?_ ” Roman signed.

Puteri sighed, “ _It was an accident. I'm okay._ ”

“ _He did it, didn't he? I'll make sure he pays for that._ ”

“ _Roman, sweetheart, you don't need to defend my honor._ ”

“ _But he shouldn't touch you like that. He shouldn't touch you at all!_ ”

“ _Roman-_ ”

“ _What kind of man abuses his power like that? You can't say no. And even if you did, he doesn't listen._ ”

“ _Roman, please stop._ ”

“ _If he really loved you, he'd let you free, not treat you like some submissive sex toy-_ ”

“ _Roman, that's enough!_ ” Puteri snapped. Roman froze, and his eyes widened. Her voice echoed off the walls. Puteri stared into Roman's eyes, the hurt and anger translating easily.

He was right. She hated how she was treated here. Her freedom came with a price, and that earned her a reputation. The technopath slut. The whore who would have sex with the head director to roam the halls like she owned the place. Dr. William’s pet. She hated how she traded her honor for the illusion of freedom. She didn't need Roman reminding her or getting involved. Why-

A sniffle cut her thoughts off. Puteri’s anger melted away as she stared into those sorrowful green eyes. She could've sworn they glistened with tears.

Of course. How could she be so stupid? Roman was extremely sensitive to loud noise. He spent most of his day in complete silence, and every time someone shouted, he or another person got hurt, things broke, and chaos ensued. He was terrified of his own gift. Puteri sighed and hugged herself.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I didn't mean to get so upset.”

A hand placed itself on her arm, and gentle green eyes sparkled for her. She swore he'd smile if he could. Puteri gave him her smile, and Roman blinked his tears away.

“ _You’re probably hungry. I should stop chatting and get that stupid thing off you,_ ” she signed once again.

“ _Please,_ ” Roman signed back.

Puteri shifted through the multiple keys on the ring until she stopped at a small silver key.

“Turn around for me,” she whispered. Roman nodded and did as he was told. Her fingers dusted along the leather strap above Roman’s ear until they slipped under the belt’s lip. She unlocked the metal buckle, and her fingers worked to unweave the strap. She did it two more times for the lock at the base of his skull and the other around his neck.

Roman yanked the rest off, too impatient to wait until she finished her work. Puteri didn’t blame him. He hated it. She hated it as well. No child should be forced to wear a muzzle like an animal.

“Thanks,” Roman’s velvet voice whispered. He studied the assortment of metal and leather in his hands, and he tossed it over to the side. It fell into a heap against the wall.

Puteri turned him around, and her fingers massaged the muscles in his jaw. She noticed the deep cuts in his cheeks from how tight it was tied around his face, and her gut boiled.

“Who put it on you?” she asked.

“I think it was Dr. Mentira,” Roman mumbled.

Puteri sighed and kissed his forehead. “And how long ago was that?”

Roman shrunk in on himself, and Puteri realized his eyes avoided her. She swallowed the bile rising to her throat. The last time he refused to answer, Roman was locked in his muzzle for three days straight. They didn’t even take it off to allow him to eat. She nearly slit the throat of the doctor that subjected him to that torment.

“Roman,” her voice was calm but stern.

“Thanks for the food, Miss Puteri. I’m starving,” he spoke and turned away from her. He sat down on his bed and pulled the tray on his lap. His eyes refused to look up at her, and he took such a big bite of his sandwich, she swore he’d choke.

“Roman,” her voice was more gentle this time, almost pleading. Roman swallowed rather hard, and he lowered his food. He offered a forced smile.

“Hey, it’s actually not stale today,” he commented.

Puteri sighed and sat beside him. She brushed a hair out of his face and watched his body shake from either excitement or stress. Puteri waited until Roman finished up his food, and he put the tray off to the side.

“So, how’s Logan? Have you seen him today?” he asked.

Puteri dropped the subject from before, “He’s doing fine.”

A smile came to Roman’s lips, one Puteri knew he reserved for just Logan. She watched it turn into anger, and he clenched his hands into fists.

“They hit him, you know,” Roman growled. “They told him to read my mind a few days ago, and he refused. They hit him three times, and I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

Puteri sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t hit him.”

“Yes, but-” her voice cut off. She caught Roman’s gaze, one that spoke ‘don’t you dare blame yourself for this’ and sighed through her nose. Her hand ruffled his long golden hair. “I see they’re starting to let you grow your hair out.”

“It’s only a matter of time until they cut it again,” Roman grumbled.

“Well, I think you look handsome with longer hair,” she commented. Roman’s face lit up, and she couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Thanks,” he replied. She saw another comment on his lips, but he swallowed it away.

“I bet Logan likes it too,” she teased.

Roman’s cheeks flushed, and he failed to keep the smile off his face. She laughed. Roman’s crush on Logan was so obvious, but she knew Logan remained ever oblivious to it. At least, as far as Puteri knew, Roman never confessed. Her mood soured. It’s not like it would do any good anyway. The two of them could never be together.

“Miss Puteri,” Roman started. He played with his fingers. “Can I… would you mind if I sang a little for you?”

“I would be delighted,” she spoke.

Roman perked up at that. He cleared his throat. “I heard this song on Logan’s music the last time we listened to it, and I know he likes it, so… I wanted to be able to sing it right the next time we get to see each other. I know he has trouble sleeping too, with the nightmares and all, so maybe I could help.”

Puteri’s lips perked into a smile. She nodded her head, and Roman cleared his throat. Every time Roman sang for her, Puteri ended up asleep on his bed, but she never minded. She knew how much it meant to Roman. It was the only way he could express his abilities in a positive way. Roman’s voice echoed off the walls, and Puteri’s eyelids grew heavy.

It was the most beautiful rendition of Ave Maria she ever heard.

When Puteri woke up, Roman stood over her and shook her shoulders. His eyes were alight with fear, and it knocked Puteri out of sleep so fast her head spun.

“Puteri, are you in here,” William’s voice called in. He pounded again, “Puteri, I need you for that machine. Now.”

Roman scowled, and Puteri thanked every deity she knew that Roman’s impulse didn’t have him open the door. She pushed past Roman.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Give me a moment,” she grumbled.

“Well, hurry up. The investors are here, and you know how they don’t like being kept waiting.”

“Alright, I said give me a minute,” Puteri snapped back. She turned to Roman, who stared at her with a mix of anger and sorrow. Puteri cradled his cheeks in her hand, and she kissed the top of his forehead. “I will only be gone for an hour or two, then I promise I’ll come back.”

Roman nodded his head. Puteri’s eyes glanced down to the leather and metal in his hand, and her stomach sank. Every time she took it off, she knew she’d have to put the muzzle back on him, but it never made it easier.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish you didn’t have to wear it.”

“I know,” Roman spoke and offered a loose smile. He’d rather her put it on than any other person. At least he knew she would be gentle.

Puteri sat and patted her lap, and Roman sat on the edge of her knees. His body stayed still, the lack of shaking at least indicating he was somewhat okay. Puteri could live with that. Of course, Roman was always brave whenever she had to put the muzzle back on.

“I love you,” Roman whispered, savoring the last of his words.

“I love you too,” Puteri answered back. She heaved a sigh. How many times would she get to hear Roman’s voice say that? She swore she’d let him every time she could.

Roman slipped the face cup under his chin. The cold, hard metal plate brought goosebumps to his skin. Puteri wrapped the neck straps around first and secured them.

“Too tight?” she asked.

Roman used the limited mobility to shake his head no.

Puteri continued, latching the one at the base of his skull and asking again if it was too tight. Roman signed a quick ‘no.’ She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, grabbed the last of the straps, and tucked Roman’s hair out of the way. It clicked shut with a finality that turned Puteri’s stomach.

“Everything okay?” she asked. Roman turned in her lap, the muzzle restricting his use of his neck muscles, and ever so slightly nodded his head up. She chewed on her bottom lip.

“One day, Roman, I’m going to swear you’ll never have to wear that thing ever again. I’m going to make sure of it.”

Roman cupped her cheek in his hand, his eyes smiling for him. She ran a hand through his hair, and she stood up beside him. Roman collapsed into her arms, savoring the last touch of human kindness he’d receive for hours, and buried his face into her shirt. She held onto him for what felt like hours before that impatient banging from Dr. William sounded again.

“Puteri. Now!”

“I’m coming,” she snapped back. She let Roman slide out of her arms. A squeeze of his shoulder ordered him to stay put, and she prayed Roman listened. Her heels clicked on the floor, their echoes dulled from the hum in her ears.

She twisted the key in Roman’s door and turned one last time. Roman offered her a weak wave, and Puteri waved back. She opened the door and blinked, William’s angry face greeting her. She pulled the door shut and locked it in place.

“It’s about time,” he grumbled.

“You didn’t let me see him for a week. You expected me to come when I was summoned?”

William rose his hand to smack her, but he stopped and grabbed her wrist instead. Puteri felt her bones creak, and she swallowed a hiss of pain.

“You can play mother later. Right now, I need you to show the investors how to use the machine. I’d hate to see what would happen to your visitation rights if you fail.”

Puteri swallowed. She hoped the machine worked as well. Who knew what would happen to Roman and Logan while she was gone. The other subjects were at least young adults or adults themselves, but Roman and Logan were still just children. They didn’t deserve any of this.

Puteri swore, then and there, she’d find a way to free them both, even if it killed her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to become a little more clear. There may be more to the story than people are letting on, and it’s testing how far relationships can go. Why can’t anyone just say exactly what’s on their mind?  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: mentioned transphobia, conversations about death, minor character death, blood, forced imprisonment, homophobia, mentions of stalking, gun mention, mentions of rape, I think that’s it  
> Word Count: 5564

“So, what you’re telling me is, my whole life has been a lie,” Roman spoke. His voice shook, and his body trembled with anger.

Puteri sighed and nodded her head, “I’m so sorry-”

“No!” Roman slammed his teacup down on the table. The other cups danced in surprise. “ _Sorry_ is something you say when you forget to do something.  _I’m sorry_  is something you say when a friend says their pet died after you asked about it.  _I’m so sorry_  is something you say when you hurt someone by accident. This… this was intentional.”

“I did it to keep you safe.”

“You know what- What else have you been lying to me about?”

“Roman-”

“No, I don’t want to hear anything else. I’m going to my room.” Roman stood and stormed toward the stairs.

“Princeton Roman Peters, you stay right here and let me explain-”

“You’re not my mom!” Roman yelled. He stormed up the stairs. A slight pause preceded the slam of a door.

Puteri let out an exasperated breath and fell into her chair. She cradled her head in her hands and took sharp uneven breaths.

Patton’s brows furrowed. He wanted to comfort her, but he remembered the ‘no touching’ rule and retracted his hands. Instead, he scooted closer into Roman’s seat.

How awkward would he feel if he sat in silence next to a crying woman for thirty minutes?

“Hey,” Patton’s gentle voice started. She didn’t acknowledge his presence, and he didn’t expect her to. He continued on, “I know I’m basically a stranger, but I think it was really brave of you to rescue Roman. That couldn’t have been easy.”

Puteri sniffled twice before she peeked out of her fingers. Patton offered a smile, and she snuffed.

“It was a ni-nightmare,” she stated bluntly with either a laugh or another sob.

“You know, you kind of deserve a  _Patt_ -on the back.”

Puteri lowered her hands to raise a brow at him. Patton chuckled nervously, and she sighed and shook her head.

“No, I really should have told him. I was just afraid he’d go looking for Logan.”

Patton nodded his head. “Hey, how comes Roman doesn’t remember Logan anyway, especially since you said they were such good friends.”

“I really should wait until Roman is here,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, I guess that’d be rude.” Patton sighed. He rubbed his fingers over the bracelet on his wrist, and he swallowed his dry throat. Was he really considering revealing his own secret? He should wait until Roman was here. His mother wasn’t the only one lying, but he suspected Roman wouldn’t take the news well at all, and he was already a ticking time bomb. Who knew what Roman would do?

“Give him time. He can’t be mad forever,” Puteri spoke as if reading Patton’s mind. Patton sighed and nodded his head. “I’m more interested in learning about you anyway.”

“Me?” Patton asked and blinked.

“Yes, you,” Puteri responded. She leaned into her palm and rested her elbow along the seat cushion of the couch.

“I don’t think there’s much to tell,” Patton responded. He sighed. “I mean, I pretty much lived in my house my whole life. My moms didn’t let me out much. They said the world was too dangerous. I mean, I only had one friend, and I wasn’t even allowed to hang out with him. He used to sneak up into my bedroom window and hide when my mothers came in. I used to say he was my imaginary friend. I don’t know if they ever bought it, but they never caught him.”

Puteri absorbed Patton’s words like a sponge. She had questions of her own, but she wondered if it’d be rude to ask until Patton finished.

He continued, “When my moms got the internet, I finally started to make friends online. My username was “pattoncake” and I watched a lot of anime and stuff. It’s also when I learned that I may not be delusional after all.”

“ _Delusional_?” Puteri perked up. Her mother senses kicked in. “What do you mean by “delusional,” Patton?”

Patton grew quiet, and Puteri sucked in a breath. She whispered, “If you don’t want to tell me right now, it’s okay.”

“I… I’m just…” he played with the bracelet on his wrist, “I haven’t told anyone who I wasn’t sure I could trust, and even then I’ve… even then sometimes they don’t think I’m… well me.”

“Patton,” Puteri’s voice was soft but stern. She put a hand on his knee, and Patton stopped breathing for a moment. Was this his permission for him to touch her? Was this her way of comforting him? Was she trustworthy enough to tell? His mind reeled with possibilities.

“You know,” Puteri spoke, “when Roman told me he was in love with a boy, I couldn’t be more happy for him. You know what my family said? He was delusional. There was no way a boy should love another boy. But you know what? That doesn’t change what Roman feels, and it shouldn’t change what you feel either.”

Patton smiled at that. Tears rose to his eyes, but he blinked it away. He sucked in a breath and nodded his head.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, so… I never wanted to be a mom. I mean, my moms were great, but every time they told me ‘you’d be a great mom’ I’d feel… weird. I didn’t want to be a mom- oh no offense! But I mean, I was always told I had to be pretty, had to be polite, had to dress in dresses all the time. I hated it. And then, when I was about 11 years old, I started to feel strange when my… I didn’t-”

Patton’s voice caught in his throat. He met Puteri’s eyes. The only emotion he felt from her was acceptance and compassion. This was, after all, a woman who was forced away from her lifelong dream of being a mother and forced to have sexual interactions with a man she didn’t love. No one could understand being forced to be something they weren’t better than her.

“I wasn’t born a man,” Patton spat out at once before he lost his courage. He squeezed his eyes closed as his hand gripped his wrist with all its might. Still, the hand on his knee never drew back in disgust, and Puteri’s compassion doubled tenfold. He swallowed hard. “I-I've been lying this whole time. I haven't even told Roman. I don't even know if he'd believe me, and with… and with what happened last night-”

“Patton, I told you it was okay if you didn’t want to tell me,” Puteri spoke. “You didn’t need to tell me.”

Patton nodded his head. He chewed on his lip.

Puteri continued, “But, I think you’re a very brave man to tell me. Why don’t we wait until Roman calms down a little more, and then you can tell all of us your story together?”

“Okay,” Patton said with a sigh. He looked down at his hands, which were folded together on his lap, and chewed on his lip. Even if she knew the truth, she would still consider him a man. Patton could’ve cried. Puteri was the first mother that ever accepted him, which was a pretty sad count considering he had two of them. He almost felt an invisible weight lift off his chest.

The front door opened, and Puteri leaned into the armchair to catch a glimpse of who entered. Her face lit up.

“Oh, Nor, you’re home!” she greeted. She stood from her chair and hastened to the foyer.

Patton peeked over the couch. Nor was dressed in a pure white hijab, a long sleeved, white shirt, and black pants. Her dark skin glistened with sweat, and her brown eyes sought out her mother.

“Your lung chi is out of balance,” she commented. “What upset you?”

“Oh, just something I said to Roman,” she mumbled. Puteri wrapped her daughter into a hug, one Nor returned. She breathed in her mother’s scent of sandalwood, and Puteri found herself taking a long, calming breath as well. Nor looked up and caught Patton’s eyes, and she stiffened against her mother’s touch.

“Mom, you didn’t tell me we had a guest,” Nor spoke.

“Oh, this is Patton. He came with Roman,” his mother explained. Nor nodded her head, and she offered Patton a smile. Patton waved awkwardly, and Nor laughed under her breath.

“I see you made him drink your tea.”

“My tea is delicious,” Puteri grumbled.

“Yes, the only thing you can’t burn.”

“Oh, Nor, you wound me so!” Puteri put a hand on her chest and sighed. “No wonder my lung energy is so low with you being such a downer.”

Nor rolled her eyes and joined Patton in the living room. She studied Patton across the way, and Patton felt like she stared into his very soul. Her smile widened.

“You seem like a very nice person, Patton,” Nor commented.

“Thanks,” Patton replied. He caught Puteri’s gaze as she walked back into the living room. Now he was in the company of two strange women, both Roman’s relatives, and knew next to nothing about them.

“Would you like some of my not-burned tea?” Puteri asked.

Nor shook her head and laughed. “I feel like this isn’t the time for tea, mother, especially since I heard you fainted.”

“Aaah, just got overly excited is all,” she said with a wave of her hand. She folded her hands in her lap. “You know how I tend to get myself excited over nothing.”

“And you not taking your heart medicine has nothing to do with it.”

“I have a daughter who could heal my heart, and you force me to swallow medicine.”

“I-” Nor’s eyes drifted over to Patton. She cleared her throat and spoke, “because you need medicine, mother. I can’t fix a heart that survived a heart attack.”

“I’m old, Nor. If I’m going to die watering my flowers, so be it.”

“You’re not even 60 yet,” Nor rolled her eyes. She looked around the room and furrowed her brow. “So, where is my little brother anyway? I at least expected a hug.”

“He’s upstairs pouting. I told him about… well… where he came from.”

“Oh.” Nor turned her eyes to Patton, who stiffened under her gaze.

“He knows as well,” Puteri added. “Patton is… he’s a good friend of Roman’s. He wouldn’t reveal our secret.”

“I sure hope not,” Nor replied. “Damia won’t go easy on him.”

“Oh, I plan on having Damia explain some things to Roman as well. I’m afraid I broke his trust.”

“That was to be expected. He’s such a drama llama.”

“I am not,” a voice from the stairs called down. All three heads turned toward the circular staircase, but no footsteps followed.

“Are so,” Nor called back.

There was a pause, and heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs. Roman jumped off the last step and crossed his arms. He leaned on the living room doorway and glared at them like they were ants on his food.

“How would you like to find out your mother was lying to you your whole life?” he asked.

“How would you like to know that I lost my mother because a man I used to trust kidnapped her, imprisoned her, and raped her for nearly twelve years?” Nor shot back.

Roman’s mouth opened at that, but it closed soon after. He looked away, a flush of red dusting his cheeks.

Nor continued, “I was only seven when our grandpa picked me and Damia up from school early, you know. He said that Dr. William tried to check us out of school. Thankfully, the school wouldn’t release us to him, because our mother didn’t say he was coming to get us, and he wasn’t on the emergency contact sheet.”

Roman opened his mouth to speak, but Nor interrupted him.

“Did you know I didn’t hug mom that morning because I was late for school? Did you know how scared me and Damia were? Did you know that Damia and I were afraid to leave the house for years? He used to stand right outside of our living room window and watch us. We called the police, but they couldn’t do anything without a restraining order, and there was no evidence he was threatening us, and the police wouldn’t believe he kidnapped our mother for experimentation. If Uncle Taj didn’t scare him away with a shotgun, I don’t think he ever would’ve left us alone.”

Puteri bristled at the thought, and Patton could choke on the tension in the room. Roman’s eyes widened with each harsh word from Nor. She stared him down like a badger defending its home.

Roman sighed through his nose and allowed her words to sink in. He whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Nor scoffed. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. You don’t get the right to judge our mom, especially since she got you out of there. You know, if it wasn’t for her, you’d still be back there with-”

“Nor, that’s enough,” Puteri snapped. “Roman has every right to be upset with me. I kept this from him for almost fourteen years now. I should’ve told him all this sooner.”

“I-” Nor stopped and sighed. “I guess… I just… I don’t want him to be mad at you. You gave up so much for him, and he… I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Puteri spoke. Nor gave a sheepish smile. She turned her head to Roman, “And you, I think we need to have a long, heart-to-heart chat.”

Roman stared at her with neither malice nor compassion. He pushed off the living room entrance and took a seat next to Patton. His back hovered over the cushion, and his feet stayed planted on the floor.

“Well, I’m listening,” Roman grumbled.

Nor narrowed her eyes, but Puteri accepted her son’s venom. She cleared her throat.

“Well, what’s the first question you want to ask?”

“Why?” Roman paused and added on, “What did you do that I don’t remember any of this?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Puteri spoke. She added a laugh and replied, “Most of the whole ordeal that night was because of someone close to William. Without him, I don’t think we would’ve made it at all.”

“Who?”

Puteri smiled. “I believe he told Logan his name was Damian, but he used an alias while working at the labs. He was a scientist that William hired, but it turned out it was Dr. Mentira’s son in disguise. See, Damian could create illusions that changed his appearance, and he- Patton, dear, are you okay?”

Patton’s face blanched, and his mouth opened and closed without a sound. “W-what did you... say his name was again?”

“Damian,” Puteri repeated. Patton let out a weak laugh, and she tilted her head to the side a bit.

Patton’s hand played with the bracelet on his wrist as he informed, “Damian was the name of the friend who used to visit when I was little. He was my first real friend, and my best friend. He was basically my brother.”

“How comes I haven’t met this Damian then if you two were such good friends?” Roman questioned.

“Because I haven’t seen him in almost thirteen years,” Patton replied. “Damian was able to make things appear, things that weren’t real. He could make you see things that didn’t exist, and he could change into a totally different person if he wanted to.”

“That sounds like him,” Puteri confirmed.

Nor furrowed her brow. “But wait, if his dad was a scientist there, how did he not know his own kid was in disguise? Sounds like a horrible father to me.”

“Well, he was a terrible father,” Puteri explained, “but Damian disguised himself as a middle aged man and used the name “Belial Ceitful” while working there. The only reason I knew his real identity was because I walked in on he and Logan talking once. He was no more than Logan’s age. I remember him begging me not to tell anyone because he had important business to attend to. What, I don’t know, but he said it would burn IODNA down to the ground.”

“Sounds like a real blessing in disguise,” Roman mumbled. He tried to recall any interactions with anyone named Damian, but he couldn’t think of one. Heck, with an ability like that, Damian could’ve been anyone he met.

Puteri continued, “Damian was trying to make up for a mistake he made. He never mentioned what, and I didn’t ask, but he was determined to bring the facility down. It didn’t work, but he tried.”

“What happened to him?” Patton asked and inched a bit out of his seat, “I mean, he’s still alive, right?”

Puteri drew in a heavy breath. “I… don’t know. The last I saw of him, he was going back in after Logan.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t work out too well,” Roman mumbled.

“Considering you and I were the only ones who made it out that night, no,” Puteri spoke. She sighed through her nose. “He arranged for a taxi to come to pick us up and drive us to my parent’s house. William didn’t come after us, so I suppose he just left us alone.”

“He just left us alone,” Roman repeated, “after twelve years of experimenting on you and who knows how long on me, and stalking your girls… just like that? Sounds too shady to be true.”

“It’s the truth,” Puteri replied. “If you don’t believe me, wait until Damia gets home. If she’s staring into your eyes, you can’t lie, which means everything I tell you will be the truth.”

“Okay,” Roman leaned back into the couch and folded his arms. He took a deep breath and nodded his head. “So what I’m gathering is, you tried to sneak me and Logan out of this IODNA place with some kid named Damian’s help. That still doesn’t explain how I don’t remember Logan.”

Puteri sighed and lowered her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but she closed it soon after. Nor eyed her from the other side of the room, and she leaned in on her elbows. Patton could feel the tension in the room rising, and Roman grew impatient.

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell you,” Puteri whispered, “but I also promised him I’d never mention his name to you again, and here we are.”

“I think we’re past the point of promises, mom,” Roman grumbled. He paused and added, “Mom, if I’m going to trust you again, you’re going to have to start telling me the truth, no matter how much it hurts.”

“Okay,” Puteri shifted in her seat and took a long drink of her tea. “Well, I wasn’t there for some of it, but I can tell you what Logan told me. It’s… but it’s not exactly a nice story.”

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” Roman replied.

Puteri nodded her head. She cleared her throat and began.

\--

_...Fourteen years ago…_

“All you have to do is shatter the vase with your voice. It’s not rocket science,” a shrill voice called through the intercom.

Roman picked up the vase and threw it across the room. It smashed against the wall.

“There, I broke it. Happy?” He snapped back.

A long sigh preceded an irritated voice, “I’d be happier if you actually cooperated for once.”

“I’m not your puppet! You can’t control me.”

“Then how does three days without food sound to you? No, maybe we should add a day since apparently, you didn’t learn your lesson the last time.”

“Do what you want! Kill me if you want! I’m done being your lab rat.”

The other side of the wall grew quiet. Roman reveled in their silence. Perhaps now, they would finally understand he wasn’t something to play with. Perhaps now, they’d actually leave him alone to live out the rest of his life in peace.

The door to the lab opened, and Dr. Mentira stepped through the door. Roman’s confidence left him, and he took a hesitant step back. He noticed the leather muzzle in the scientist’s hand, and his jaw already ached.

“Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” Dr. Mentira growled. “No matter. If you don’t want to cooperate with us, I’m sure Logan would be a more entertaining subject. It’s been a while since we’ve given him an injection, and I’m sure he could use the practice.”

Roman’s chest pinch as heat burned his cheeks. He hissed, “Leave him alone.”

Dr. Mentira smirked. “Oh, did I finally hit a nerve? I wonder what would happen if we upped his dosage. Maybe he’d forget you and start listening to us once again.”

“Stop.”

“I know I’d hate to be the reason my best friend got hurt. No, he’s more than a friend to you, isn’t he? That must hurt, to know he’d never love you back that way.”

“I said stop it.”

“I’m not even sure he’s capable of loving anyone. I mean, just look at the way he refused to see you the other day. He must be bored by now. Either that or being around a homo like you upsets him-”

“I said  _ **STOP**_!”

A powerful blast erupted from Roman’s lips. Dr. Mentira’s eyes widened. The force pushed him back. He slammed into the door and hit his head off the handle. There was a loud snap and a crack. The windows from the observatory shook and shattered. The lights went out, and the emergency lights flared, covering the room in a red tint. Sirens blared. Roman covered his ears.

What did he just do?

Tears stung his eyes and his throat. Outside the observatory, he heard people shouting in the distance. Roman’s body numbed. From the slow flashing red light, he could see Dr. Mentira’s form crumpled against the door. Black splatters tarnished the door, wall, and floor around him. The smell of blood choked Roman. He tiptoed forward, and he noticed Dr. Mentira’s eyes were unfocused.

Dead.  

Roman killed him.

Roman covered his mouth and took several steps backward. He killed someone. He knew his power was dangerous, but he never imagined he’d kill someone with it. What would happen now? What would they do to him?

No, he knew what they’d do to him. They’d do the same thing they did to Mara. Once she killed one of the scientists, they terminated her study and killed her, saying she was too dangerous to work with. He didn’t want to die. Not yet. Puteri promised she, Logan, and Roman would escape together.

Escape.

Roman had to escape.

He carefully placed a shoe on the broken glass of the lab window. Roman jumped through and winced as glass bit into his palm. He picked out a tiny shard and barrelled down the hallways. His heart pounded. His legs ached. They’d find him for sure. There was nowhere he could run that they wouldn’t find him.

He had to see him one last time.

Roman followed the corridors by heart. He stopped at a door labeled 204 and grabbed the keys off the hook. His fingers trembled as he unlocked it. With a click, he opened the door and tried not to slam it closed as he hid inside.

Silence.

“Hello?” a groggy voice questioned. The lamplight turned on. Logan blinked and squinted through the soft light. He put his glasses on, and his eyes widened. “Roman, what are you doing here?”

Roman opened his mouth to speak, but he found his voice locked in his throat. His airways stung. He couldn’t say a word. A choked noise shot through his lips, and he coughed. Tears blurred his vision.

Logan tossed the sheet off of him and hurried across the tile floor. He examined Roman before offering his arms out. Roman collapsed into his hug, and he buried his face into Logan’s neck. Logan stroked his back, and Roman tried not to soak Logan’s shirt.

“I killed him,” Roman whispered as his voice cracked. It was all he could do. “I killed him. Oh my gosh, Logan, I killed him.”

“Deep breaths,” Logan spoke. “Hyperventilating will only aid the anxiety in your chest. In order to accurately tell me what happened, you need to calm yourself. Follow my breathing.”

Logan lead Roman’s hand up to his chest, and Roman felt Logan’s chest rise. He tried to sync his breathing with Logan’s own. After about five failed attempts, eventually, they fell into a rhythm. In four, hold eight, release seven. Or was it the other way around? Roman didn’t care; it was working.

Roman let out a content sigh. Logan stopped rubbing his back, and he leaned Roman away from him to look into his eyes.

“Are you injured?”

Roman shook his head. Logan lead Roman over to his bed, and he sat beside him. He allowed Roman to cling onto his arm the whole time.

“Now, can you explain to me what happened?”

Roman told Logan what occurred in the sound lab. Logan listened with a nonjudgmental expression. Roman hadn’t realized tears were falling until Logan offered him a tissue. Even with the horrible things Roman admitted to, Logan didn’t pull away.

“It seems he got what he deserved,” Logan grumbled.

“But I didn’t want to kill him,” Roman cried. “How am I going to live with this for the rest of my life? I can’t get his face out of my mind. Gosh, Logan, there was so much blood. It smelled horrible. I think I’m going to smell it forever. I just… I want to forget everything even happened.”

Logan grew quiet. He stared down at his hands and took a deep breath.

“I could,” Logan started, but he stopped himself. Roman rose a brow.

“You could-” he caught on- “Logan, would you? Would you erase what happened?”

Logan stiffened under his touch. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” Roman whined. “Logan, please.”

“I don’t know what will happen,” Logan replied. “I can’t control how much I erase yet. You could forget everything. Roman, I can’t do that to you.”

Roman let out a bitter laugh. “What could you do that’s worse than what they’ve done?”

“You could forget me,” Logan whispered.

Roman stilled. He watched Logan’s eyes glisten in the low light, and Roman’s heart broke. He opened his mouth to speak, but Logan continued.

“I can’t. Not again. I can’t.”

Roman wanted to ask, but it appeared Logan was hurt by the thought. He never wanted to make Logan cry. He passed his tissue over to Logan, earning a choked laugh from his friend. Logan took a clean tissue for himself and wiped his eyes.

“I’m sorry. That was selfish of me,” Roman whispered. He sighed. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

“I don’t regret it,” Logan spoke, “you coming to me, that is. I’m glad you trust me enough.”

Roman smiled at that. Even after everything, Logan still cared enough for him. That was something he’d treasure forever.

The door to Logan’s room shook. Roman jumped and Logan clung onto his arm tighter. The door pounded along with Roman’s heartbeat.

“They found me. Logan, if they find out- when Dr. William finds out- I’m dead,” Roman whispered. He started to shake, and Logan pulled his arm out of Roman’s grip. Instead, he wrapped Roman into a tight hug.

The door bulged, and a crack followed. It splintered off its hinges, and two guards rushed inside.

“We found him,” one spoke on the radio in his pocket.

Logan twisted and blocked Roman from their view. The other guard stormed forward. They grabbed Logan by the shoulders and tried to pull him away, but Logan held firm.

“Let go,” the guard ordered. The other guard joined them, and they grabbed onto Roman’s waist. With a strong tug, Roman’s arms untangled from around Logan’s shoulders.

“No, let him go!” Logan yelled. He struggled against the person holding him back.

Roman let out a distressed squeak. His eyes landed on Logan. He struggled to free himself from the guard’s grip, kicking and trashing with all his might, but the guard only squeezed tighter. More people started flooding into the room. They yanked Roman’s head back, and the muzzle constricted his face and neck. A muffled cry of pain followed. He tried to tear it off his face, but the locks already trapped him inside.

“Subject 89 has been contained,” one of the guards spoke.

Logan kept screaming over and over for them to let Roman go. He reached out, but two guards restrained him. They drug Roman from his room. Logan’s heart pounded. The guards holding Logan led him from the room. He slammed his heels onto the tiles and struggled, but they were too strong. What damage could a fourteen year old, malnourished boy do against two strong, healthy adults?

They threw him into one of the labs and slammed the door shut. The lab swallowed him in a thick darkness. The door clicked. Logan struggled to his feet. He was blind without any light. Logan crashed straight into the door. He pulled on the handle, kicked the door, and pounded on it with his fists.

“Don’t hurt him!” he yelled. “Please, don’t hurt him! Don’t, please don’t! I’ll do anything, I’ll listen! I’ll let you put me in the machine, but please, don’t hurt him. Please! Please...”

Logan slid down the door. He gave one more pound of his fist on the door and shuddered. His eyes stung, and deep sobs choked his breath. Logan hugged his arms tight. His voice trailed into nothing more than pleading whispers.

Please.

What would happen now? Would they hurt Roman? Would they kill him? How much would they torture him if they didn’t?

Please.

What could he have done differently? He could’ve held Roman a little tighter. He could’ve told him the truth. Now, he might never get the chance again.

Please.

Why did he have to be so stupid? Logan loved to learn, but the one thing he couldn’t seem to learn was what he felt. Emotions couldn’t be explained in a book. They were personal. Sure, he could understand when he was angry or sad or happy, but other emotions were too hard to process. Even some books couldn’t describe them in a way Logan understood.

Please.

He had to escape here somehow. He had to tell Roman before it was too late. Roman was brave enough to confess to him, and he squandered his chance.

The door handle clicked. Logan drew a sharp breath, and he backed away from the door. It cracked open, letting a bright white light through, and Logan prepared himself to bolt. He stopped dead in his tracks when Puteri appeared in the doorway.

“Miss Puteri, please!” Logan cried. He raced forward and collapsed into her arms. She shushed him and rubbed soothing circles in his back. “Please, you have to help Roman! I’m afraid they’re going to hurt him. Please!”

“Shhh, Logan, I know,” Puteri whispered. Her own cheeks were wet, Logan noticed, and he breathed in her soothing scent of sandalwood.

“What’s going to happen? They won’t really kill him, will they?”

“I don’t know,” Puteri admitted.

“We can’t let that happen! He didn’t mean it. It was an accident, I’m sure of it.”

“Logan.”

“Can’t you talk to them? Can you make Dr. William change his mind? Please, Miss Puteri, we have to do something.”

“Logan! I know you’re upset. I know you’re not thinking clearly right now, but this isn’t helping anyone. I need you to calm down.”

“I- I… I…” Logan shuddered as a cry of frustration choked his words. Puteri put his cheeks in her hands and pressed her forehead to his.

“We’re going to help him, Logan, I promise, but we need a plan. If they are going to kill Roman, they won’t do it for at least a day. They’d want to review the evidence and see what happened.”

“That’s not much time!”

“Actually, that’s just enough,” a voice called behind them.

Logan peeked around Puteri’s head, and Puteri turned as well. A gray haired man in a blood splattered lab coat approached them. It didn’t appear to be his blood, but there sure was a lot of it. Logan stiffened, but he noticed Puteri relax a little.

The man’s silhouette shifted, and instead of a balding middle aged man, a familiar teen with eczema on his face and heterochromatic eyes warped into existence.

“Damian,” Logan breathed, “do you know what’s going on?”

“I know that the higher-ups aren’t happy. My father is dead.” He snuffed. “Serves him right. I’m just upset I didn’t get to see it.”

“Roman. Where’s Roman?” Logan asked.

Damian sucked in a breath. He exhaled through his nose and chewed on his lip.

“He’s okay for now. He’s locked in isolation. Dr. William is not happy at all, and I don’t think we have much time. If we’re going to save Roman, we’re going to have to do something quick.”

Puteri sighed. “Well, I’m open to ideas.”

“I may have one or two,” Damian responded.

“What?” Logan’s eyes searched Damian’s own, his fear reflecting off the golden, patch covered eye.

Damian smirked, “How good are you two at lying?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some secrets are necessary, but others can put strains on relationships. How do you tell a secret you’ve been hiding for years, and when’s the appropriate time to do so? When it keeps your friends safe of course. But, they’re not safe right now are they?  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: mentioned transphobia, talks of dysphoria, self depreciation, I think that’s it  
> Word Count: 4,767

The door opened to the front of the house, and Puteri stopped her story. All four heads flashed over to the doorway. A woman in a brown and black hijab and a black business suit took her heels off and placed them at the door. She watched the company in her home stare at her like she grew a snake's head.

“Oh, mom, you didn’t tell me we were having guests,” she explained. “I would’ve changed before I came home.”

“Nonsense. It’s just Roman and a friend,” Puteri replied. “Welcome home, Damia.”

Damia nodded her head, her lips pulled into a tight line. She caught Roman’s eyes and studied them.

“Well, it’s about time you came home for a visit, little brother,” Damia greeted.

“I’m not your brother,” Roman spoke. He sucked in a breath and snapped his jaw shut. The whole living room held its breath. Roman’s mouth flopped a bit before he spoke, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I believe you,” Damia replied with a smug smile. She strolled into the living room and sat beside Roman. Her hand ruffled his hair. “So, now little Princey knows the truth, huh?”

“Some of it, yes,” her mother answered.

“Some?” Roman repeated as he pushed his sister’s hand away.

Puteri rose her brow. “I haven’t had time to finish the story, for goodness sake.”

“I’m sure it can wait a moment. I have something to share.”

Damia poured herself a cup of tea and put milk in it. She stirred it around with a spoon, hit the side twice to tap off the excess tea, and brought the liquid to her lips. All eyes fell on her. She licked her rose colored lips and put the tea down on the saucer.

“Always so dramatic,” Nor grumbled.

“Shush you,” Damia whispered. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, word on the street is that a certain someone has been discovered walking around in the city. They said Logan Shea was discovered last night over by Tower Theater, and that he was with someone else. Someone with the ability to create explosions.”

Roman sunk down a little in the couch as Puteri glared at him.

“Of course, you know how reliable rumors are. There are some people saying it wasn’t Logan at all, but a local school teacher. Several witnesses can confirm it was a teacher named Patton Shea, who just happens to look like Logan, was at the theater last night. All witnesses coincidentally are under the age of ten.”

“Oh gosh,” Patton whispered. He rubbed the bracelet on his wrist. “My students. I hope they’re alright.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” she said and stared into his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Logan, would you?”

Patton took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Damia replied. “He’s telling the truth.”

Nor nodded her head in agreement. “So, what, are people more cautious now or something?”

“I know there’s more police on the streets targeting white males. For once, I felt invisible.”

“Hey, maybe now I can get groceries without being stared at,” Nor joked. She caught her mother’s eye, and her smile dimmed.

Damia continued, “Anyway, no one has seen either of them since last night, which means, you two morons traveling in the light of day to get here went unnoticed miraculously.”

Roman released a heavy breath from his spot on the couch. Patton shifted beside him, and he chewed on his lip.

Roman gave a nervous laugh and said, “Good thing I was cautious and didn’t take the bus system here.”

“How  _did_ you get here?” Puteri asked.

“Well, I called a taxi of course. You expected me to walk,” Roman put an offended hand to his chest.

“Okay, so what was your driver’s name?” Damia asked.

“I-” Roman paused. He furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. They didn’t give me a name.”

“And this one person knows your location, knows exactly what you look like, and knows you have someone who looks like Logan who happens to have a rather large chunk of money on his head.”

Roman blanched. Puteri muttered something under her breath, and Nor sucked in a heavy breath. Patton’s teacup trembled on its saucer.

“You don’t think,” Patton whispered.

“Oh, if there’s one thing I trust people to be, it’s dishonest,” Damia growled. “Especially if there’s money. You wouldn’t believe how many people come into the courthouse saying the money made them do it.”

Roman rose to his feet. “Then we can’t stay here.”

“Roman-”

“No, mom. You risked so much for me already. I don’t want to put you, Damia, and Nor in danger too.”

“Where will you go?” Puteri asked. She rose to her feet as well. “They’re going to be looking for you both, Roman, and I will not have them catching the both of you and putting you into that psychotic place again. Then everyone’s sacrifice would be for nothing.”

“And what happens if they come here? What’s stopping them from taking me and Patton from the both of you? If Patton looks that much like Logan, they’re not going to bother to believe who he is. And what’s stopping them from stopping with us? You three will be labeled as accomplices, and-”

“Roman,” Puteri put her hands on his shoulders. She gave a gentle squeeze. “If I’m going to die protecting you from them, so be it.”

Roman studied his mother’s gaze, her dark eyes showing nothing but love and affection. Roman scolded himself for getting so upset earlier. Puteri was his mother, by birth or not. If her story was true, she was practically his mother from the start anyway.

Roman sighed and swallowed hard. What else could they do? Where else could they go? One way or another, this was going to end in catastrophe. Might as well enjoy his last few moments with the people he loved most.

“I-” Patton paused. He played with the bracelet on his wrist, and tears pricked his eyes. “I think… I can help.”

“Patton, if you’re thinking about taking us back home to your mothers, you better change your mind,” Roman grumbled.

“No,” Patton looked up and caught Roman's eyes, and Roman’s heart started to pound. Patton was afraid. No, not just afraid.  _Terrified_. Roman sat down on the couch next to him and grabbed Patton’s hands in his own.

“You’re not giving yourself up to save me either,” he whispered.

“No, it’s not that either,” Patton responded. He let out a bitter laugh, and he shook his head. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about… well about me.”

Roman opened his mouth to speak, but Nor shushed him. She leaned in closer.

“I knew it. I knew your chi was off balance, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

“Well if he’s lying about something, he better spit it out before I make him,” Damia growled.

“Girls, please,” Puteri hushed. She turned her attention to Patton. “What is it, dear? No matter what, please remember we’re here for you.”

“Well, you already kind of know,” Patton mumbled. He turned his head back to Roman, and he blinked away tears. “Please, please don’t hate me.”

“Patton,” Roman stroked Patton’s hands with his thumbs. He looked deep into his blue eyes and smiled, “there’s nothing you could ever say that would make me hate you.”

Patton let out a broken laugh. He lowered his head, and Roman placed his forehead against Patton’s own. The clamminess of his touch sent shivers down Roman’s spine.

“Okay,” Patton whispered back. He let go of Roman’s hands. Patton stood up, and he walked into the foyer. His fingers shook as he punched in the combination lock for his suitcase. The lid opened. He dug through the pouch at the top and pulled out a silver key. Patton stared at it for what felt like hours. He never thought he’d have to use it once he left home.

Patton returned to the living room and stood behind the coffee table where everyone could see him. His left hand gripped onto his right wrist for dear life.

Patton closed his eyes.

Please don’t hate me.

He stuck the key into the lock.

Please don’t hate me.

There was a low click, and the bracelet around his wrist fell to the ground.

_Please don’t hate me._

The light around Patton’s body wobbled like he was a mirage. Straight blond hair flopped into short and wavy golden locks, and the freckles pronounced themselves on his face. They covered him like the night sky. His torso shrunk and grew in separate places, and his clothes hung off his frame like they were two sizes too big. They probably were. He opened his eyes, which thankfully were the same color, but they sparkled with tears. They searched out Roman’s face for any sort of reaction.

Roman sucked in a breath. How long had Patton been hiding from him? Had he ever known the real Patton at all? His mouth opened and closed. No, don’t say anything you’ll regret.

“I wanted to tell you, but-” Patton played with his fingers, “I was too afraid of what you’d think of me.”

“Patton,” Roman whispered. Patton still refused to look at him. Patton instead studied the chewed nails, the freckled skin, and the body that he tried to run from for so long.

Puteri shifted in her spot. Her voice was low as she spoke, “Patton, how many abilities do you have?”

A light chuckle escaped Patton’s lips. “This one wasn’t mine. I was… Damian helped me with it.”

“The bracelet,” she whispered. “May I see it?”

Patton picked it off the floor. He squeezed it in his hands before he handed it over to Puteri. Cautious fingers shook as she took the golden metal from Patton’s hand. She sucked in a breath and put a hand to her chest.

“Oh my stars,” she whispered. “Damian, when he was at the labs, took up a project to transfer abilities from one person to the next. He said the experiments failed, or at least, that’s what he told William. I guess it didn’t.”

“Patton, do you know how it works?” Damia asked.

“A little. I know there are three pins that go into my arm and inject Damian’s DNA into mine, but that’s it,” Patton replied. He rolled his wrist over and showed three tiny holes in his wrist.

Patton continued, “Right before he disappeared, Damian said he could help with my gender dysphoria. He said as long as I wore that bracelet, I’d look like a man. It isn't perfect, because my freckles still show a little, but it works. But, he never told me I’d look like someone else who already existed.”

“Why would Damian give you a bracelet that made you turn into Logan Shea?” Roman asked.

Nor smirked. “Maybe he thought it was poetic? I mean, Patton Shea and Logan Shea? It was almost perfect. Besides, if Logan was locked in the facility, there’d be no doppelganger running around. Patton could live a normal life looking like no one.”

“Sounds plausible,” Damia added. “I mean, if he did give the bracelet to Patton all those years ago, it was way before Logan escaped, so the chances of someone discovering it was slim to none.”

Patton locked eyes with Puteri, who stared at him with a shocked expression he didn't expect. It soon melted into distrust and anger. His skin crawled. Did she not accept him? Was before a lie to save face? No, he felt it. She accepted him when he told her, but this… this felt different. Cold, and calculating, like fitting together a puzzle.

Roman walked around the table to stand in front of Patton. Patton lowered his head, and he squeezed his hands together. He tried to play with the bracelet on his wrist, but his fingers hit clammy skin instead.

“So, all this time, you’ve been pretending to be someone else?” Roman asked.

Patton’s body trembled. He plastered on a smile and tried to laugh, but it came out more like a choked breath. “I mean, I’m still your happy pappy Patton. I just… looked how I wanted to look.”

“I think,” Roman paused. He tilted Patton’s chin up to him, and Patton’s eyes rose. Patton’s uneasiness and fear chilled Roman’s finger. Roman continued, “I think I like this Patton better.”

“W-wait, you do?” Patton asked. His eyes widened.

“I do,” Roman replied with a smile.

Patton’s shoulders shook, and he let out a series of giggles. “That's great, but I hate it.”

Roman furrowed his brows. “Patton, just because you don't look exactly like a man doesn't make you less of one. If you say you're a man, no matter what you look like, I'll believe you.”

Patton's eyes watered. He wrapped his arms around Roman’s chest, and Roman hugged him back. It felt off, but it felt right at the same time. He’d just have to get used to holding the real Patton instead of an off-brand clone.

“Hey, Patton,” Nor said and rubbed her arm, “how about Damia and I take you shopping later to find clothes that actually fit you? You look like a child trying to be an adult.”

“Oh yes!” Damia’s eyes lit up. “There are some stores downtown I think you’d absolutely love! We can hit them up this afternoon after supper. Just think, it could be a girls ni- I mean, it could be a fun time out together, and we could get to know each other better!”

Roman sputtered, “Now wait just a flim flammin minute. You’re not taking poor Patton out by himself. You two have a habit of going a little overboard. I’ll go with and make sure you two don’t overwhelm him.”

“We never said you couldn’t go with,” Nor mumbled.

Damia chuckled, “We kind of expected you to come with your boyfriend anyway.”

“He’s not my- oh nevermind,” Roman grumbled. Damia and Nor looked at each other and laughed.

Puteri stood from her spot in the chair and picked up her tea set. “Why don’t you four go down to the mall now?”

“But mom, what about supper?” Roman asked. “You said you’d make char siu.”

“Well, I’ve been talking here all afternoon, haven’t I?” Puteri said with a smile. “You four go have fun. We can have the char siu tomorrow.” Her eyes lingered on Patton. The chill from before disappeared, and Patton breathed a sigh of relief. Puteri walked away from the conversation and toward the kitchen.

“Thank you for the tea. I had a tea-lightful time!” Patton called out.

Puteri paused in her footsteps and turned. “We should have tea again soon. I have a lot more to discuss with you, apparently.” Without explaining further, Puteri walked into the kitchen and disappeared.

Patton couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips. Perhaps everything would be okay after all.

“Well, we’re wasting time,” Damia spoke and spun her car fob around her finger.

“Shotgun!” Nor shouted and ran to the door. Damia shook her head and followed her sister out.

Roman turned to Patton, and he sucked in a deep breath. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I should be,” Patton replied with a smile. “I mean, it’s just shopping, right?”

Roman hummed through his nose. Patton could still sense the tension in his chest, and he chewed on his lip.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Roman asked, “About the trans thing, not the I-literally-stole-someone-else’s-look thing.”

Patton sighed, “I didn’t know what you’d think, and I couldn’t- you were my only friend, Roman. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Did you really think being trans would make us stop being friends?” Patton’s silence answered him, and Roman put a soft smile on his face, “Patton, I couldn’t care less if you are a man, woman, or purple spotted elephant. You are one of the best people to ever come into my life.”

Patton giggled, and he allowed Roman to wrap an arm around his shoulder.

“Thanks, Roman,” Patton sighed.

“Anytime,” Roman replied. He kept staring at Patton’s face, and Patton’s cheeks tinted red. Roman clicked his tongue, “You know, I’m very good with makeup. I could have you looking more like a Patton in no time.”

“More like a Patton?”

“Yes. I mean, you’d still be you, but you’d look… handsomer? Wait, I don’t mean you’re ugly. I mean, you’re beautiful. I mean, you’re gorgeous. I mean... I don’t know where I’m going with this.”

Patton laughed, and he shook his head. “Aww, thanks, Roman.”

Damia’s horn blared, and Roman led Patton through the door. Nor rolled down her window and leaned out.

“Hey, lover boys, the mall closes in five hours. Sometime today would be nice,” she yelled.

“We’re coming!” Roman shouted back. He muttered under his breath, “Well, someone doesn’t know the meaning of the word patience.”

“Aww, give her a  _brake_ , Roman. We were probably  _driving_ them crazy.”

Roman smirked. He squeezed Patton’s arms a little tighter.

There was his happy pappy Patton.

\--

“Virgil, I think I have found a new favorite food,” Logan whispered.

Virgil snorted through his nose and shook his head. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth and replied, “Just wait until you try it with chocolate and marshmallows.”

“They make that?” Logan asked. They looked into the fluffy white and buttery salty snack in front of them and tried to imagine it draped in chocolate and smothered in marshmallows.

“Yeah, it’s called zebra popcorn. Google it,” Virgil informed.

Logan blinked. “What is a google?”

Virgil choked on his popcorn, and he tried not to laugh. Logan blinked, and they wondered what they said that was so amusing. Virgil cleared his throat as his dad rose a brow at him, and he took a deep breath.

“Easy, son,” Jun-seo spoke, “I am not CPR certified.”

“Well, if Virgil was a cat, I’m purrfect for the job,” Vanessa chimed in.

“He certainly hisses like one,” Terrell remarked.

Virgil squinted and jabbed a finger in his direction, “I was ten. When are you going to let that go? You’d hiss too if your dad tried to put you in a suit for your birthday.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Terrell said with a chuckle.

“Shh,” Flora put her finger to her lips, “I want to watch the show!”

All voices quieted, and Flora grabbed a fistful of popcorn and attempted to shove it all in her mouth. She succeeded for the most part, but a lot of it went all over the couch.

Logan watched Flora with curiosity, and they grabbed a fistful as well. Was this how one properly enjoyed popcorn and not piece by piece like Virgil? They brought the fluff to their lips and tried to force it in. The salt stung the sides of their mouth, and they pressed harder. The bits forced themselves inside and made chewing difficult. Logan was sure a kernel jabbed itself into their gum. They struggled through it, and through mid chew, they caught Virgil watching them with a raised eyebrow.

Logan paused, face full of popcorn, and blinked.

Virgil’s shoulders shook, and a snort escaped his nose. Logan’s cheeks reddened. They finished the mouthful and swallowed it away.

“I have discovered, while enjoyable, that eating a plethora of popcorn at a time is more difficult than I imagined,” Logan commented.

Virgil did laugh at that. Flora smiled up at Logan, and she peeked through her messy curly hair.

“I like the way you talk. It sounds fisticated,” she spoke. Logan’s cheeks flushed, and they looked back at the television screen.

“Honey, I think you mean  _so_ phisticated,” Terrell explained.

Flora tilted her head, “What’s  _so_ fisticated about it?”

“Oh, how did I give birth to such adorable children?” Vanessa said with a laugh.

“Just lucky I guess,” Virgil said with a smile.

The living room quieted again, save for the munching of popcorn. Logan looked around the living room, too disinterested in the show to watch but too comfortable to move. Was this what family was supposed to be like? Did they all just sit around and eat while they stared at pictures moving on a screen? Occasionally, they’d pass snacks back and forth without a word, and Logan marveled at the non-verbal communication everyone seemed to know but them.

Logan wondered if they and Macy would be together and enjoying each other’s company like this had he not erased her from his life.

Every once and a while, they’d watch Virgil flinch on the couch. He kept rubbing at his temples, and Logan studied him with both curiosity and concern. Virgil would catch their eye every once and a while and look away, but he didn’t say a word.

“Virgil,” Logan spoke, but Virgil shushed him.

“Just… I’ll take care of it when the show’s over,” Virgil grumbled.

Logan furrowed their brow. Shouldn’t Virgil want to seek medical attention if he was hurting? Didn’t he have to keep his body healthy? Come to think of it, Virgil ignored the salmonella warning of eating raw eggs, and he constantly got less than adequate sleep. He was always over worried about something, which was supposed to be bad for a bunch of bodily functions. Was this all common? Was healthcare really not that big of a deal?

Was that just a lie the institute made up so they would follow the rules?

“Logan,” Virgil spoke and snapped them out of their concentration. Logan rose his brows to signify they were listening. Virgil continued, “If it’s really bothering you, I’ll take care of it now.”

“I am not you. If you think you can wait, I’ll allow it,” Logan replied.

Virgil couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “It’s just a vision. I can delay it for a little while.”

Logan nodded their head and hummed. Virgil had delayed his visions in the past before, but they never looked this painful. Usually, he’d start fidgeting around, and he’d sit to pull out his book as soon as it was safe. But here, in the comfort of his family that was well aware of his gifts, what would possess him to postpone them? And what would happen if he did it for too long?

“If you’re sure,” Logan mumbled back.

Virgil breathed in a long breath, and he nodded his head. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“You’ve given me nothing but trust. It’s the least I could do.”

Virgil full on smiled at that. He didn’t expect to like Logan as much as he did when he first met them, but he was glad he got the chance. He’d never forget the first time he watched Logan use their own abilities. It scared him a bit, to be honest. Did Virgil’s eyes go black like that when he was drawing? Logan looked so confident and in control like they’d been practicing for years. Heck, Virgil discovered they had been. Still, it awed Virgil enough to stay and find out who the person behind the locked gloves was, and even if it was behind his boss’s back, going down to the basement floor was the best decision he ever made.

Another wave of nausea hit Virgil’s stomach, and he doubled over. Sweat lined his brow, and his head pounded.

“Virgil,” his mother hissed from the couch. Virgil peeked out from his bangs to glance at his three parents, all looking at him with different forms of concern.

“If you pass out on the living room floor, I’m not picking you up again,” Jun-seo grumbled.

Terrell offered a smile, “Your gift is calling. Go unwrap it.”

Virgil sighed through his nose. He was going to argue, but he caught Flora staring at him with such a saddened look, he couldn’t find the words.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Virgil sighed. He caught eyes with Logan before standing and walking over to the stairs. Virgil climbed up to his room, flopped down on his bed, and grabbed his sketchbook. The pages tingled in his hands. Virgil sharpened his pencil and sat against his pillow. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Scritch scratch.

A cold rain tapped against the window. Virgil stared outside at the storm, his reflection in the glass showing his faded purple hair and tired eyes. He turned his head and stared back into the vacant room.

A whole bunch of people, people he didn’t recognize, were watching him. He sucked in a breath. They all appeared to be upset, whether it be crying, cradling another person, or off by themselves. Some had wings, others had missing body parts, and some looked like they were dead on their feet.

Scritch, scritch, scratch.

He caught Logan’s eye across the room. Logan was curled up against someone, and Virgil squinted. He could’ve sworn he saw that person before. They held Logan like an old friend and stroked his head. Words spoke through his lips, but Virgil couldn’t hear a sound.

Scratch. Scratch.

A warm hand grabbed onto his palm. Virgil’s heart pounded. Why was he excited? He turned his head, and he sucked in a breath. Familiar blue eyes stared up at him, but that was the only thing that was familiar. Short, wavy blond hair, a freckled face like the stars in the sky, and a soft, round face that Virgil had never seen before stared back at him.

So, why did he hold onto this person like they were the last person he’d ever see?

Scratch. Scratch.

Their voice sounded like a melody as they spoke. They asked if Virgil was okay. He didn’t answer. Those comforting eyes studied him, and the coil in his chest unwound. They stroked his hair out of his face and leaned forward. If Virgil concentrated, he could feel their warm breath on his face.

They were so close.

Too close.

But Virgil wasn’t pulling away.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch-

Their lips met, and Virgil’s heart burst.

Snap.

Virgil stared down at the pencil in his hand, now two halves. Shards of wood and lead scattered across the page, broken like his concentration. He stared down at the page before him, now covered with a person he never saw before.

“Oh for the love of Christ,” Virgil growled. He just figured out who Patton was. Now, who the heck was this?

In both anger and defeat, Virgil picked up his sketchbook and stormed down the stairs. He ignored his family’s questions as he collapsed into the couch.  Flora tugged at his sleeve, and Virgil turned just for her.

“Virgil, what happened? What did you see?” she asked. Virgil handed the book over, and Flora examined the page with an intense stare. Her eyes lit up. “She’s pretty.”

“You drew a female?” Logan asked. Virgil gave a slight shrug, and Logan tilted their head to the side. They leaned over and examined the page. Their eyes narrowed then widened. They sucked in a sharp breath, and their jaw dropped.

No. It couldn't be. They had to be seeing things.

“Logan?” Virgil asked. He watched Logan take the sketchbook from Flora’s hands and stare at it like it was the map to Atlantis. Virgil tried again, “Lo, you okay over there?”

“That’s… it couldn’t be,” Logan breathed.

Virgil sucked in a breath. He asked, “Do… do you know who that is?”

“I believe so,” Logan replied. Their eyes lined with tears, and a few leaked onto the page. Flora jumped off the couch and grabbed the box of tissues on the coffee table. She poked Logan’s arm with the box, but Logan didn’t move to retrieve one.

“Well, who is it?” Virgil asked.

“That’s-” Logan’s breath hitched, and they brought a hand up to their mouth. Flora pulled a tissue from the box and leaned in to wipe Logan’s tears herself. Logan flinched away, but they soon relaxed against her touch.

“Logan, are you sad?” she asked.

“No,” they said with a choked laugh that sounded more like a desperate breath of air. “I… I just can’t believe it. You _found_ her.”

“Who?” Virgil’s back stiffened.

Logan looked at him with teary eyes and a watery smile. They sniffled, and their grip squeaked on the pages of the sketchbook. They could be wrong. It could be a coincidence. However, if this was a sign that they would find her again, Logan wanted to cling to it with all their might.

“You drew my sister. That’s Macy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thank you all for making it this far! Unfortunately, this is all I have pre-written at the moment. I have been working hard on another project, and that ate up all my time for writing. But worry not! As soon as my project is over, I’ll get back to working on this. 
> 
> I appreciate all the patience and support you all have given me so far! It makes me smile whenever I get a message or comment on this, especially since I was so worried about its success in the beginning. I promise it won’t be more than a month for the next update, as I’m super close to finishing my animatic, but it will continue soon.
> 
> Thank you <3

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @altruistic-skittles


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